The Treat

Come here my children, gather around your dear ol’ granddad. I have a story to tell. Let me pack my pipe first. The smoke makes the story come alive. Don’t mind the red eyes children, just focus on the story. The horror.
Once, when I was as young as all of you, little fuckers, I would go on adventures. You know what that is? It’s not like any of your pathetic video games, where you can die a million times and still not have a scratch on you. No. I would go out there. In the world, where there are murderers, pedophiles, and rapists. Lunatics of the worst kind. I was right there. Playing.
I would travel all sorts of places. Places little children should never ever go. For hours, I would wander around cemeteries, abandon houses, and my favorite, train tracks.
Once, on the tracks, I came across a tunnel. It was dark in there. I felt as if there was no end to it, but I was brave. A fearless warrior. I was willing to travel where there is no end. Into the unknown. Fear grabbed my feet as soon as I stepped in. I moved slowly. Cautious with each step. Then, after the light became a speck, my eyes began to adjust and my fear began to dim. I kept walking. There was graffiti on the walls. Pictures of the devil stirring a cauldron of tiny dicks and watching all of those who dared entered. The smell of dead rats filled my nose. Broken bottles were everywhere. I was lucky not to cut my foot. So I thought I was lucky. I stomped on, until I heard grunts. They were loud and frightening. Unnatural. They shook the walls. They gave my soul goosebumps.
I stopped. Not knowing what to do. Should I turn back and run away? Or stay and be brave, like I said I was? Just then, the grunting stopped. I made my decision to be brave. I continued on. Off, deeper into the endless darkness, I began to hear footsteps. They drew closer. And closer. And closer.
I saw a black mass. A shadow growing. Hair sticking out of the darkness. A face. His face. The face of all that is evil moving into the dim light. Stalking me. Forever haunting my dreams. My first instinct was to run, through the walls if I had to. Fear held me there. I was his prisoner, paralyzed, and chained to the tracks.
All of my senses were heightened, especially my nose. His smell was inescapable. Piss and booze and dried sperm clung to his clothes, his skin. Our eyes met. He laughed. His teeth were hidden. His smile twisted and growing. He stuck out his tongue. I could tell he had a healthy diet of broken glass. His breath made me gag.
He grabbed me. His hands were scarred. Bloody. He laughed again. “Good morning lil’ boy,” he said, “I have a special treat for you.” He pointed with one of his hideous hands, deeper into the tunnel. “Go!” he yelled.
His laughter followed me. I could not outrun it, but I tried. Blind and filled with dread. My eyes were desperately grasping for the end. Then, my feet hit something heavy, something terrible. I tumbled, smacking hard against the tracks. Dust rose up around me. All crept into nothingness.
When I awoke, I could sense that I was not alone. A presence was there. I went closer to it, grabbing a stick to probe the dark. It hit rocks, empty bottles, dirt, flesh. I came in closer. A woman came into view. Her clothes were ripped. Her hair was covering her face. She was frozen. Lost in sleep. I poked her again, wanting to end her dreams. She didn’t wake up.
I kept poking. It was useless, so I moved her hair around to look for a face to see if she had one. Deeper and deeper I searched, listening for a heartbeat, a breath, anything. Silence.
I touched her hair with my hands. It was so soft. I had never felt anything so beautiful, so inviting. Was this my treat? I parted her hair. There was nothing there, but skin. Her face was missing. Sickness crept over me. Nothing felt right. The world was wrong.
I looked at her neck. It was twisted. Completely deformed. I jumped back, knowing where face, imaging what he was doing to her. With her body. Defiling all beauty.
My legs could not run fast enough. There was an end. I found it in more ways than one. Shit. Kids give your grandad a beer. This story is too much for me. My memories are terrifyingly real. I need another smoke too. Jeez. This is why I don’t mind if you kids stay in doors. Please stay stuck to your computers and wander mindlessly for hours in video games. I want you to view the world from a safe and distant place. I never want you kids to experience anything as horrifying as what I just shared with you.