Knock Knock, Open Wide

by Neil Sharpson

The larger animal stared at her, placidly, almost bored. And then suddenly, its face contorted. The ears flattened, the muzzle separated, a fire was lit behind the eyes, and it seemed the creature’s face was all angles and teeth. The growl that emerged from the beast was like a pneumatic drill; it shook her to her bones.

Knock. Knock. She heard the knocks. But not with her ears. She felt them against the inside of her skull.

Just as she touched the knob she sensed motion to her left and turned to see one of the reverend fathers skittering noiselessly over the ceiling, bearing down on her with the speed of a nightmare.

The kitchen and most of the hallway were aflame, the burning wallpaper creating a tunnel of fire through which he could just about make out the charred body of a woman lying on the kitchen floor and the reverend father squatting over her, eating her stomach.

Etain listened. She lay as still as bone and let the sound of Feidhlim Lowney’s death wash over her. She heard him screaming and tearing and cracking open and spilling.

Kate gripped the ax tightly in her hand, raised it above her head, and resisted the urge to yell, “HERE’S JOHNNY!”