Chris locked the door to His apartment, sighing, wondering why He bothered. Nights out always held such promise but never delivered. Lots of beautiful people around but He knew as far as they were concerned He might as well have been dead. He had been single a lot of years now and He had lost hope of meeting someone again.
He was also getting older, the music had been so loud that He had had to stand all the way at the back to get through it. It was His friend’s birthday and He had only stuck around as long as He did to make Him happy. What about my happiness? He thought sadly.
They had gone to see a Tribute group of a 90s band, He had waited all night for them to play that one song He liked and coming Home so late, knowing He faced a night of uneven sleep and a depressed day Tomorrow, He doubted if it had been worth it. He went up to His room, slightly buoyed by the thought of finishing the comic He had been reading earlier.
In His room He felt better. He had a big window with a great view of the city. From this perspective it looked beautiful, a tapestry of lit windows and pretty orange street lamps, arranged neatly in the darkness. It was too far away to see the cigarette stubs, the condoms, or the lonliness. He picked up His comic, a juvenile tale that He was embarassed to be reading, when He saw something out the window.
It was the light in the one of the other windows. It was turning off and on again. Fascination took over from self-pity. What was this? Every time it went dark He thought it would be over but then a few seconds later it would turn on again. He found himself a little afraid. This wasn’t normal, and he felt intensely curious. It was like some kind of signal calling to Him across a concrete sea.
He tore Himself away and settled into bed. Lying down with the blind closed He was able to rationalise what He had seen. Just some kids, He thought, playing with the light switch. The mind eats up explanations and it accepted this one greedily. A few doubts followed Him into sleep however. The flashing was so patient, so deliberate. Was this the game of a child?
~
He spent the next day in silent reverie. He could picture the person behind the switch. It was a woman. Beautiful, but sad, a little bit older than Him. She was lonely and every night before She went to bed She flicked the lightswitch, unconciously sending a signal into the Void, searching for kindred spirit. He was sure He was the only one who had seen it.
He knew the idea was crazy but He just couldn’t shake the image of Her and He didn’t want to. Maybe if He had had more of a life but He didn’t. The fantasy got stronger until it grew wings. It became a belief and then a certainty. If He was crazy He didn’t care, it felt good.
His Job was to sort through boxes in a massive storeroom. That day He couldn’t concentrate and had spent the Morning correcting His own mistakes. The Boss had shot Him a threatening glance around lunchtime and He was furiously trying to catch up. The answer came to Him then. Morse Code. She was using Morse Code to communicate. That explained the patterns. He checked His watch, 3:15, His mind was already at home, looking out the window.
~
The flashes began just after dark. “Hello”, He said to an empty room. He got out His phone and opened the morse code app. He measured out the flashes, counting under His breath. The sequence lasted for 30 seconds. The app had a handy interface where you could tap in the code as you heard it. He looked at the results: P..M..E..H..E..L..P..M..E…She wasn’t alone She was trapped. Probably by an abusive Husband. Locked up like a Princess in Her tower. Help Me She had said. He would.
He went out that night. He couldn’t put it off any longer. He passed the usual crap on the streets. Drunken arguing people, fast food, strip joints and loud obnoxious music. It usually bothered Him but not now that He had a purpose. At one point He even saw a dead cat, plastered to the middle of the road. He barely noticed. Finding the building was easy. He had counted the number of roofes from His place and He mentally ticked them off as He walked hurriedly to his destination.
It was an apartment building, tucked into a small street that was more like an alley. The walls were flaking yellow, christened by faded spraypaint. The door to the building stood open, its lock broken. The window was still sending its SOS although the ones around it were in darkness. What do you expect to find here? He asked himself soberly. A crazy person looking to cut your throat? He could still go back home. Maybe it was the thought of spending one more night alone. He pushed open the door and went inside.
~
The lift was too full of garbage so He took the stairs, ascending urine-decorated steps until He reached he 4th floor landing. Light flickered from an open room at the throat of an endless black corridor. The only sound was the buzzing flourescent and the faint howl of the wind outside.He clutched His fantasy tight and moved closer, drawn in like a Moth.
~
Chris stood in apartment 409. To His surprise it was quite spacious and was filled with people. He counted about 20. There were men and women of different ages, standing and sitting. They were stuck in poses, like they had been in the middle of doing something and been interrupted. The flickering light gave the illusion of movement but as His eyes adjusted He saw that they were all quite still.
Some of their clothes were torn but other than that they looked normal. He thought they might be statues but when He got close to one, a woman who looked like she was frozen in place while running, He could see Her chest rising and falling. She was alive. Their eyes were all moving too and right now they were all fixed on Him.
He groped for an explanation, was it some kind of art piece? Maybe they were all actors, laying in wait for an audience member. No, He had been an actor and He always knew when people were acting. This was different, He could feel their fear. They had driven it into the wallpaper with their eyes. They were all silently staring at Him, all sending Him the same message as if they had written it on His brain: GET OUT.
He backed away. When He got to the door He felt something blocking Him. It was like a strong piece of canvas glued to His back. He trashed around wildly, trying to get it off but like quicksand the more He fought the more firmly it held Him. He was stuck. He couldn’t understand How even though He felt the stuff on Him, He couldn’t see it. The statue people were looking away now, as if they didn’t want to see what came next.
Something was crawling out of the kitchen at the back of the apartment, towards Him. Under the lights it looked like a woman, filthy and naked, but in the dark it looked like something else. It leaned down and started to suck black mould from the carpet strands. As it did He caught its gaze and felt His whole nervous system go to sleep. It felt like being stoned and suddenly the legend of the Gorgon made sense. He looked for snakes in Her hair, there were none, but there were certainly things alive in Her mouth.
As It climbed on top of Him He looked around the apartment for something for His mind to escape to. His eyes reached out to the eyes of another victim. She was standing by the lightswitch, Her hand was resting on it and somehow she had found the strength to flick it on and off, on and off. SORRY, she said, before looking away.
THE END
[bctt tweet=”OCTOBER TERROR 2018 Short Story Award – Entry #36 ‘MOTH’ by Richard Clare – Enjoy all this terrific, disturbing material you have in your hands, lots of horror stories at your disposal for your dark delight and vote!” username=”theboldmom”]
On October 23rd we’ll close submissions and open a poll for the readers to choose their favourite one! You’ll have a week to make your choice and on October 31st we’ll announce the winner!!!
