Creature of the Night | By: Abi Thorpe | | Category: Short Story - Horror Bookmark and Share

Creature of the Night


As the rain pounded against the foggy window, a dark figure camouflaged by the darkness twitched. The figure was perched on a square object in the corner; all that could be seen was its eyes. They were blazing orange and did not once blink. They were fixated on a box marked with a red cross at the other side of the cell. The box could only be seen because of the ray of moonlight that streamed through the bars of the cell. The box contained something that made the figure want to scream until his lungs collapsed; the figure was truly petrified of the contents of the box.

At long last, the figure started to move. As it slowly began to rise, it was as though it sensed that something dangerous was in its presence. The figure had become as rigid as stone, its eyes blazing that fiery orange, glaring at the box. The figure began to tremble uncontrollably; footsteps could be heard ever so slightly in the distance. Each footstep seemed to get louder and louder – like the slow beat of a drum. With each step, the figure would wince and it recoiled back into the darkness. The thud of the steps was getting unbearably loud for the figure and it began to weep. It was trembling so much that its teeth began to chatter, saliva was flying everywhere out of its mouth and it began to beg. It was pleading, whispering ‘No, no, no please dear god no!’

The footsteps abruptly came to a stop, the figures head snapped upwards, its eyes that were filled with tears glared at the door. Only one emotion was flowing from the figure, and it was one of intense fear. A husky male voice eroded from behind the door, “Mr Mason?” There was no reply. “Mr Mason, it’s time for your medicine.”
“Go away!” Mason bellowed. On the other side of the door, the locks began to click open causing Mason to burst into tears. “You can’t do this to me! You can’t! Please don’t do this to me!” After a few seconds, the clicking of the locks came to a halt and so did Mason.

The door began to slowly drift open, and a stream of light poured into the cell. The light was that blinding that Mason cringed; all that could be heard was sniffling sobs. The light had exposed Mason, revealing him to be around thirty five and aging rather quickly. He was wearing an orange jumpsuit with the words ‘Stillwater Mental Institute’ printed on the back in black. He was curled up like a ball in the corner, shielding his eyes with his arms. A muffled sound was coming from his mouth that was inaudible - it sounded as though he was choking on something. A doctor wearing a pristine white coat strode into the room, closing the distance between himself and Mason in a matter of a few strides. “Mr Mason? Are you ok?” He waited for a response, which he didn’t get. “I’m afraid it’s time for you medicine… Will you please come downstairs with me?”

When the doctor saw that Mason wasn’t responding, he took another step and bent over, placing his hand on Masons shoulder. He gently shook Mason who, barely five minutes before, had been screaming as though he was in agony. “C’mon Mr Mason, don’t play games with me, get u-. “ Before he could finish his sentence, Mason drove his fist into the doctor’s chest with so much force that the doctor went spinning out of control. The doctor tripped over the square object that Mason was previously perched upon. He lost his balance and went tumbling towards the ground. But before he hit it, his head collided with the corner of the box that was branded with the Red Cross. The impact area on the doctor’s head instantly began bleeding; Mason was staring after the now semi-conscious doctor with a look of pure hatred.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Mason whispered, still glaring at the doctor with those loathsome eyes. “I begged you, I begged you not to give me that medicine… It closes my mind!” With this spur of rage, Mason was on his feet. He slowly began to pace towards the doctor who was lying on the floor, grasping his head and trying to speak. “This is the last night that I’m going to spend in this place. It will be yours too… In fact, it’ll be the last night you spend anywhere.” Mason lifted his foot and placed in upon the doctor’s windpipe. He began to apply pressure to the man’s neck, ignoring his brief cries and feeble attempts to knock him off his feet.

“Does it hurt?” Mason asked. “Because this is nothing compared to what you people do to me!” He lifted his foot from the doctor’s neck, who erupted into a violent fit of coughs. Mason strode over to the other side of the room and gazed out of the window. The doctor controlled his coughing and looked at Mason with disbelief. His once pristine coat was now stained all over with blood, though the gash on his head had stopped bleeding. Mason was deep in thought when the doctor slowly began to open the box that has caused his wound. There was a row of needles that contained numerous drugs, one of which the doctor was to administer to Mason. Next to the needles was a scalpel, which the doctor quietly claimed. It took him several attempts to stand; all the while Mason was still lost in his own thoughts, muttering to himself.

The doctor broke Mason’s trail of thought. “Mr Mason, this is absurd. You need to calm down and come with me.” Mason spun around with remarkable swiftness; a terrifying grin broke across his face. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Mason’s face suddenly began to twist and transform – the veins in his neck were bulging. His eyes returned to that blazing orange that they were before, and his teeth became razor sharp fangs. All the while, the doctor stared in utter horror. He could do nothing but watch the once human Mason transform into something from his worst nightmare. Two large holes began to form on the back of the jumpsuit, and two grey, gargoyle-like wings emerged. The once long sleeved baggy jumpsuit now clung tightly to Mason; the sleeves were barely below his enormous shoulders and the pants just above his knees. Mason had grown three foot in height, with every muscle in his body visibly standing at least 4 inches from his body. He was a beast that could cause widespread damage with a flick of his wrist. He was a beast that would taunt a mother with the death of her child. He was a beast that still wielded a horrific grin, as he transformed into a creature that would cause terror throughout the night.


Click Here for more stories by Abi Thorpe