Hollowed

Jermaine thought a parent‑free night with friends would be the highlight of October. Instead, something lurks in the dark, smiling with teeth that aren't it's own.

Hollowed

I can hardly remember some of the details. The day, the events�"they feel like fragments in my mind, scattered like broken glass that refuses to fit back together. What I can never forget, though, are the dreadful memories burned into my brain, locked there for all eternity. Even if I fell from a four-story building, I would still remember what happened to me and my friends that night. And believe me, I’d fall from a four-story building if it meant forgetting.

Unfortunately for me, I was the only one who survived. All my friends are gone. And worse�"everyone wanted to know what happened. At first, I lied about it. Maybe because I couldn’t recall everything, or maybe because I thought no one would believe the truth. But now? Now, I’m telling the full story. No strings attached.

My name is Jermaine. I don’t really fit neatly into any one box. My skin isn’t white, but it’s not black either. I was adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Harrison, two loving�"though sometimes a little strict�"white parents. I keep my hair in dreadlocks, but I refuse to cut them. I can’t stand the thought of it. So, most days, I’m either pushing them back out of my face or tying them up. That’s me: a walking contradiction.

It was October 13th. No, not a Friday, but it sure felt like one. A horror movie. A nightmare in the making. My neighborhood wasn’t the best, not because the houses were falling apart, but because some of the people living there just gave off a strange vibe. Some were kind, but others? Well, they were something else entirely.

Out of all the neighbors, there were three families we’d usually hang out with. The Finnigans were one of them. Mr. Finnigan was tall, pale, and gave off an intimidating air with his sharp, sallow face, but he loved sports. He’d always be playing catch with the younger kids, trying to teach them how to throw and catch like pros. Mrs. Finnigan, though, was short, with dark hair and olive skin. She was a creature of the garden�"her jungle of plants that she tended to with almost obsessive care. If anyone stepped too close to her plants, she’d get angry in a way that made everyone tiptoe around her.

Then there were their children, Dallas and A.J., the twin boys. Dallas was the star of the high school football team, our wide receiver, and wore jerseys even on days when there was no game. A.J. was the same�"twin-looking, same height, same everything�"but he had a different energy. He wasn’t as athletic as Dallas, but he loved sports all the same. They were inseparable.

The Bullfinches were another family we were close to. Mr. Bulfinch was a big man, burly and quiet. He wasn’t the type to say much, just grunt when something needed to be done. Mrs. Bulfinch, however, was different. She was loud, funny, and always seemed to drag her husband into conversation, even when he didn’t want to be involved. Their son, Ollie, was tall, dark-skinned, and hilarious, always cracking jokes that left everyone in stitches. He was a star on the basketball court, though he didn’t take himself too seriously about it. He was also constantly changing up his hairstyle�"cornrows, braids, dreadlocks. Once, he even tried to style them like Allen Iverson from the NBA, and I think they were called fish bone braids. Always experimenting.

And then, there were the Randalls. Mr. Randall was a bookworm�"quiet, with a mind lost in the pages of whatever book he was reading. Sometimes, when he’d get to talking about what he was reading, his voice would put everyone to sleep. Mrs. Randall was quieter than her husband, but when she spoke, it was with an authority that made you listen. They had three kids�"June, the oldest, who always wore oversized sweatshirts and sweatpants, and two younger toddlers named Xander and Kellan, who were always attached to her side.

Finally, I should probably mention Mr. Lestrange. If there was ever a man who looked like he belonged in a horror movie, it was him. He was older than everyone else, maybe in his sixties, but he was always lurking. He never seemed to leave his house, always peering out from behind his curtains or standing in his yard, staring. Everyone in the neighborhood avoided him�"parents whispered about him behind closed doors, but no one ever actually talked to him.

On October 13th, the day my life changed forever, I was hanging out with my friends Dallas, A.J., Ollie, and June. We’d planned for weeks to stay the night alone at my place while our parents were away at a hotel. We were all sixteen, and it was the first time any of us had ever been given the freedom to stay home without supervision. The excitement was palpable.

As soon as our parents left, I ran straight to Dallas and A.J.’s house. I knocked on the door, and Dallas answered in seconds, a smirk already tugging at his lips.

“You ready already?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What can I say?” I replied, a grin spreading across my face.

Dallas turned, yelling up the stairs. “A.J.!”

“What?” came the muffled reply.

“We’re leaving for Jermaine’s house!”

A.J. appeared a moment later, tossing on a puffer jacket. We moved quickly, the excitement growing with every step. The night was ours. We made our way to Ollie’s house. The door opened before I even had time to knock. Ollie was already grinning, that mischievous look on his face.

“Party started already, huh?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Only if you’re down,” I teased.

We hurried to June’s house, and she stepped out onto the porch, already dressed and ready to go.

“Guess you knew I was coming?” I said with a chuckle.

“Of course,” she replied, nodding with a smile.

We all raced back to my house. The living room became our sanctuary. Movies started, laughter filled the air, and the world outside seemed far away. The hours passed quickly, as we dove into horror movies, our reactions a mix of laughs and shrieks as each new jump scare hit. I kept glancing at the clock, the time creeping later and later. It was 3:00 AM when we finally paused the movie, the silence hanging thick in the air.

“I’m hungry,” Ollie and A.J. said at the same time, breaking the stillness.

“Help yourself,” I said, waving toward the pantry. “Don’t eat everything, though.”

They headed for the kitchen, the sound of their footsteps disappearing down the hall. I settled back into the couch, feeling the fatigue of the night start to settle in. But before I could close my eyes, A.J.’s scream tore through the air. My heart leapt in my chest, and I shot to my feet, my body suddenly alert, the room feeling too small, too tight.

“A.J.?” I called, my voice shaking. “What’s going on?”

There was no answer.

Ollie’s face had gone white. He stood frozen, his eyes locked on the pantry.

“A.J.?” Dallas echoed, voice barely audible.

And then, all at once, it clicked�"the sheer terror in Ollie’s eyes. He wasn’t just startled. He was scared. A kind of fear I’d never seen before.

“Where’s A.J.?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper, as though speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment.

Ollie didn’t move, his gaze never leaving the pantry. His breathing was ragged, uneven. “I... I don’t know. Something... took him.”

I took a step back, unsure if I had heard him right. “What do you mean?” I demanded. “What do you mean something took him?”

“There’s nothing in there,” Dallas said, trying to stay calm, but his voice cracked.

Ollie took a shaky breath, his face a pale mask of fear. “I swear, Jermaine... I saw it. It... it wasn’t normal.”

“What do you mean it wasn’t normal?” I demanded, stepping closer to him. “Ollie, where’s A.J.?”

The air in the room felt heavier now, colder. I turned, glancing at Dallas, but even he was frozen, staring wide-eyed at the pantry. It didn’t make sense. There was nothing in the pantry. Only bags of chips and cereal. Nothing.

“Ollie, what happened?” I asked again, this time my voice was barely more than a whisper.

He shook his head, his lips trembling as he stepped back, his hands raised in the air. “I... I don’t know. He was here. And then�"he sunk.”

It was so confusing. It must have been the late hour getting to him; saying that A.J. sunk? We searched the house. Every room. Every closet. There was no sign of A.J.

We rushed back down the stairs and back into the living room.

“Ollie, are you okay?” I asked as we neared the couch.

The color seemed to be back in his face.

“I think so,” he said, nodding. “I must’ve been seeing things earlier. Sorry about that. Where’s A.J.?”

“We don’t know.” I replied.

“Wait, where’s June?” Dallas asked, his voice cracking.

June was gone. She was right there on the couch with Ollie just a few minutes ago.

I whipped my head to Ollie. “Ollie, where’d she go?”

“I�" don’t know.” Ollie said, becoming pale as before.

“Oh no, this is bad,” Dallas said, putting his hands to his face.

“Search the entire house.” I said instantly.

They all nodded, and we searched again. It felt like hours, but we met back in thirty minutes.

“That’s it,” I said, my heart hammering in my chest. “They’re not here. We need to find them.”

Dallas took a step towards the door. “They’ve got to be outside then, right?”

I sighed. “It’s the only place they could be if they’re not inside.”

We blundered out the door and then we scoured the neighborhood hoping that June and A.J. would turn up. But they never did. We knocked on doors. All except Mr. Lestrange. Eventually, they had knocked on every door of their neighborhood, and only Mr. Lestrange’s was left.

“No, we can’t knock on that crazy old man’s door!” Ollie whispered in the darkness of the night.

“He’s the only one we haven’t asked, he’s got to know something,” Dallas assured him.

“But what if he doesn’t?” Ollie asked worriedly.

There was no answer.

“We’re knocking on the door.” I ordered.

“Fine by me.” Dallas shrugged.

“No. No way I’m doin’ that. I’m staying back here.” Ollie demanded.

“Why, are you scared?” Dallas taunted.

Ollie’s gaze hardened.

“No, it’s just…”

He didn’t finish his sentence.

I saw Dallas open his mouth to make another remark, but I jabbed him hard in the ribs with my elbow.

“No, you’re not staying back. You’ll get taken too,” I told him.

“Yeah, right, by what?” he asked indignantly.

I shook my head.

“Fine, but it’s your funeral if you’re taken.”

“Sure, whatever.” Ollie said, rolling his eyes.

Dallas and I marched up to Mr. Lestrange’s door. I lifted a shaky hand to the doorbell and pushed it gingerly. The door opened so fast that it was almost instantaneous. Mr. Lestrange’s aged face looked down at us. I could see scarring now that I was close to him like never before.

“What d’you want, eh?” He grumbled

.

“Uh�" we were wondering, sir… our friends disappeared, and we were wondering whether you knew something or not.”

“Ah. It’s happenin’ again, is it? Your friends are as good as gone… unless you wantin’ to save ‘em.” Mr. Lestrange said ominously.

“Yes, yes! We’ll save them!” Dallas exclaimed.

              The sudden eagerness in his voice startled me a little.

“Should be in the woods. Reckon it’s waitin’ for yeh.”

We looked at the woods for a moment, then back to Mr. Lestrange.

“What’s waiting for us?” Dallas began to ask, but the door had closed.

We stepped down off the porch and back onto the sidewalk.

“Well, what’re we waiting for? Let’s go.” I said.

“Wait, where’s Ollie?” Dallas asked, viewing the street where we left him.

“Oh, s**t.” I mumbled.

My mind was racing. We were being picked off one by one.

“We need to move. And stay together. We don’t know what’s in there.” I said, equipping a fake brave voice feeling a horrible feeling in my stomach at the fact that we had nearly ignored Ollie’s disappearance. I shook it off and made myself realize the weight of the situation, and I didn’t need any more weight than that.

And with that we moved into the woods. As we moved deeper, the forest got darker. The terrain got rougher. And the anticipation was about to blow my head off.

I stumbled over a root, staggering forward and bracing my hand on a slimy tree trunk. I yanked my hand away almost instantly, the gritty, oozing texture making my palm burn, the loss of support almost sending me sprawling. I squinted at my hand, making out a smear of gritty, fibrous jelly coating it, the burning getting worse as I noticed the odd pits eaten into the trunk of the tree.

“What happened?” Dallas asked, his voice sharp, cutting through the eerie quiet.

 “Nothing,” I said, my voice too quick, too defensive.

“Alright, then,” Dallas replied, though the uncertainty in his tone was unmistakable. “Let’s keep going. Try to listen for them.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me.

As we continued to move through the forest, I realized we were getting really far in. Then I realized that nobody was close enough to even call for.

“I think we should go back,” I said nervously.

Dallas seemed to be getting as nervous as I was.

“Sure… but what do we do about the others?” he asked, as he turned around.

“We’ll figure something out when we get back,” I said.

He nodded.

I tried to rub my palm against my jeans, not noticing the red and black smear I made on them. With my eyes darting every which way, some deep, dim part of my brain began ringing an alarm. I started to walk, quickly, focusing on the small beacons of light, which were extremely limited, through the windows at this time at night, and through the various trees. I walked faster, trying to make myself feel silly about this, to ignore the swelling, unreasoning panic.

A twig broke behind us.

I froze, one of my hands dripping blood from some sort of corrosive injury I would have been horrified about, had I looked. I didn't dare look back, but I was terrified to run, to hear something following, reaching, grabbing. Moments passed, filled with nothing, I finally resolved to run right at the moment when a thin, bony hand reached through my shirt and into the muscles of my back like a nasty child squishing his hands into a cake.

I screamed, or tried to, the sound squelched to little more than a harsh bark by the sheer volume of pain, limbs suddenly boneless and leaden, nerves dead except for agony. I felt fingers touching my ribs from the inside, even as they were slowly eaten away and corroded, my body shifted slowly to the face of the hand’s owner. The flicker of the distant window lights showed something withered, dark, slimy, and pulpy-soft, but wiry and strong. Two milky-black eyes glistened at me in a too-large head, sitting over a frozen corpse of a body. It wore a grin, teeth thin and chipped.

I lurched my body forward, the hand being yanked from my back with the worst pain of my life to go along with it. I limped towards the neighborhood. I was losing blood, and I knew it. It was following me. I could tell. I had no clue what to do. My heart was in my throat. My mind was racing, and before long, I was lost.

As I slowed my pace, and the adrenaline began to fade away, I began to feel the pain. It felt like an oily, burning corruption seeping into my body. Then I felt it. I could tell it was behind me. I turned around and froze once again on sight of its face. I was trying not to feel the ground below me turning mushy and soft, swallowing both me and that horrid thing inch by inch. It leaned closer, and despite the searing horror of that face, some still sane part of me welcomed what was surely an approaching end to my pain. It lingered, however, the other twisted claw of a hand rising as the ground started to swallow my hips, same as the beastly being.

The new touch made me lucid with a new fear, my face locked on those rotten eyes. I recognized the eerie shine behind them, and started to scream with a new, repulsed horror, even as it started to pull both my clothing and skin away in sodden ribbons.

I thought I was dead. I thought there was no chance I’d get out of there. But then it happened. Something’s grip tightened around my fingertips just before I was fully plunged into that strange world with that even stranger and terribly horrifying boogeyman thing. It pulled me up, my skin was somehow still intact, but in many places, it was bleeding and torn nastily. the spot on my back was stinging and searing worse than ever. My shirt was barely more than a scarf at this point, and my jeans were tattered thoroughly. I looked up once my entire body was safe from that place, and I was shocked to see Mr. Lestrange standing over me.

“C’mon boy, we ain’t gonna survive this thing if we don’ get goin’ right now!” He said, pulling me to my feet.

I moved as fast as I could behind Mr. Lestrange. For once in my life, I was extremely thankful for his presence, as it had saved my life, except I had a weight pressing down on me; a feeling in my chest that this was not over.

As we arrived at the neighborhood, we ran to Mr. Lestrange’s house, but I tripped on the curb. I let out a huge howl of pain. My entire body felt like I was being tormented in the devil’s lair. Mr. Lestrange was hurriedly trying to help me up as neighbors appeared from their houses, looking perplexed.

I can’t explain what happened next. I can’t do it without breaking down. That thing came back. It attacked them. Attacked everyone. I had to run. I ran through the streets, with not a single idea of where I was going. Everyone was probably dead.

I didn't know this for sure, but when that boogeyman thing dropped out of a tree and started shoving kids into a wall that was suddenly like a black quicksand, it was probably a safe bet. I hadn't even been able to do anything, just watch as those long, bony fingers grabbed the two toddlers Xander and Kellan, who were being babysat and just… yanked them away, like dolls, barely screaming before the squishy black wall gulped them up along with whoever was taking care of them that night. And Mr. Lestrange… the boogeyman, it hooked its fingers into Mr. Lestrange’s eyes like my dad had taught me to hold a bowling ball, and…

Some sort of half-digested mass looking vaguely like melted chocolate, but seemed unsettlingly like the goo that had splattered everywhere while the tall, lanky, thing had landed out of the tree seemed to melt the floor, making it mushy. My entire body was throbbing as I ran. I stopped, stumbling to my knees, coughing and gagging, barely half a block from my house, and wailing out a weak scream for help in the dim night. It drifted off, unheeded, I was unable to even sob, too numb with exhaustion and horror. I barely noticed the footsteps until they were nearly on top of me.

I looked up, ready to beg whatever adult I saw for help. Then I saw the legs. Thin, black, the feet looking pulpy and flat with age, the concrete under them turning cracked and gooey. I looked up more, shaking more and more violently. The withered hips, the sticky, soft chest that didn't rise or fall… and finally that nightmare head, looking like some kind of rotten face, but black and oily as a bucket of tar. The eyes locked on mine, as shiny and blank as a flashlight in a basement. The teeth parted into a hellish smile of unnatural length, some kind of rolling, slimy blackness shifting inside.

I stumbled back, gasping, trying to scream but unable to even breathe correctly. I stared at the thing as it rolled something in the palm of that thin, beaten hand, pulling it between two bony fingers and lifting it to his mouth. I thought it was candy or something, but then I saw the glint of metal.

I could recognize it distinctly. It was Dallas's front tooth. It still had the bracket from his braces on it. The thing placed it between his teeth, gently, the tooth still white and clean in that filthy, dripping mouth. It seemed to hold it there a moment… then its jaw bunched, and the tooth shivered… then burst like a jawbreaker under a car tire. It chewed it twice, then just stopped, still staring at me. It seemed to go on and on, I was unsure if I was even breathing anymore, I thought it was going to kill me.

But it didn't. It turned, seeming to get ready to take a step… then fell forward, slowly, like an old man tripping over a shoe. The black monster almost hit the ground… but just fell through it, like it was made of air, nothing but a black smear left behind on the concrete… and the tiny, now corroded bracket from the tooth.

And then I snapped back to reality.

I had to run. I forced my broken and thoroughly battered body to pump my legs and arms and run even further down the street, now completely sure that if I had stopped again, I’d be its next victim. Everything hurt. Tears were now rimming my eyes, blurring my vision and making everything worse. I turned back; it was still coming. It had to be. My mind was moving faster than it ever had before. What to do, what to do? I don’t know why, but I considered calling the authorities my only possibility.

I pulled out my phone as I ran and dialed 9-1-1, I cried into the phone, my tears dropping onto the screen… I managed to call an ambulance as I began to lose consciousness, my blood leaving my body swiftly, and I passed out. I find it a miracle that I wasn’t taken by that thing while I was unconscious, but that’s how I ended up where I am now. Bandaged and bruised in a hospital with my family members asking endless questions without cease. I could barely tell this story to reporters, so I felt bad at not being able to tell them.

All my friends were gone now. Not to mention my neighbors as well. As for that thing that I can only describe as a boogeyman but worse, I have no clue what happened to it. My family moved out of that neighborhood, and I’ve tried to put that night behind me, but the huge scar on my back and my still mangled skin in spots of my body are constant reminders of what happened that twisted day on October 13^th.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

             

 

 

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Author's Note

As my first mini story I wrote a lil while back, I wasn't so good on wordsmithing, so look for any bad word usage, also I tend to sometimes get not too good with flow and making sure the story reads well, so anything that makes you stop reading and go "Wait, what?" to the point where you have to go back and read it again, definitely point that out. Give me hell, I guess.

Note: The monster in this story is inspired by SCP-106, so I want to credit the amazing creators who came up with the SCP's