There Is A Kitten at the End of This Story

Don't pick it up

Kent dodged deftly to the right to avoid knocking into an oversized display of painter’s tape and narrowly missed crashing into a cart full of lightbulbs driven by an elderly man in greasy coveralls. He only needed a box of nails, small ones for hanging pictures, but this place was like a maze, obstacle course, and circus all under one corrugated tin roof. He’d had to pee since the plumbing aisle and was convinced the lumber section would be great for hiding a body. In a general malaise, leaning on his cart for support, he’d turned a corner in an aisle apparently dedicated to adhesive tape and bumped into an older man in a neon green apron.

“Do you know where I can find the picture hanging nails? I swear I’ve been on every aisle.” The man looked off in the distance, put one hand on his hip and held the other out like he was pointing to Kent’s doom.

“Twenty.”

Aisle twenty only had every other kind of nail, in every conceivable shape, size, and sexual orientation. Kent had laughed silently to himself over that joke and then immediately posted it on social media with a plea for help.

“Twelve, man. I keep a log on my phone just in case.”

Thank the elder gods for friends, Kent thought, picking up an entire picture hanging kit in hopes of never having to return to this wasteland of abundance again. As a reward for his epic endurance, he decided his frazzled patience could withstand a trip to the garden department. One could really never have too many plants.

Under the mesh shade canopies and misters Kent walked up and down the rows of garden plants. Petunias and pansies flashed all the hot summer colors, but there was nothing spectacular, nothing to die for, or that he didn’t already have. Rounding the last aisle the cart hit something and got stuck, looking around the corners he didn’t see anything it might be caught on and tried again, but the cart didn’t budge.

“You’re stuck on my hose,” a woman in her neon green apron, standing at the front of Kent’s cart muttered. More to herself than to Kent.

“Oh, I couldn’t see it. Do you mind lifting the front over? There isn’t room for me to get around the side. Aisles are too narrow.”

“Just go around, sir.” She held the watering wand out over the drenched plants and mechanically waved it back and forth.

“I want to look at that plant behind you.”

“You want to buy it? I’ll put one in the cart for you.”

“I want to look- You know what, forget it. Sorry to have inconvenienced you.”

Kent huffed and backed up to turn the cart around. There were still the houseplants inside to look at anyway. He snagged a few succulent leaves from the floor on his way back inside. These he could grow into new plants, for free. Online it was called “proplifiting” and had a strict code of ethics. Never break a plant, only take what would be thrown away, and if you aren’t at a store and have to cut something, ask first. Kent also asked first if he was at a local nursery. The big box stores just swept up the fallen leaves, but some smaller nurseries propagated them for sale, so he asked first. This place was a monstrosity, and it could be damned as far as he was concerned.

Inside, back under the air conditioning, he squeezed his way through the house plant aisles, nearly knocking over three ficus. Rounding a corner he thought he heard someone call his name. Or no, not call his name. He shivered, it was like a mental tug. He paused and looked around, no one was paying any attention to him. As he looked, his gaze was pulled downward and he caught a glimpse of a plant partially hidden on the overstock shelf that sat below the display shelf. He picked it up, it was wilted, but it was a cute little plant with thick, dark green, glossy leaves. They were mostly rounded, but with a small point at the tip. Kent could see it looking impressive once it was big and full. He turned it around, checking for bugs. The tag read “Pepper-Face, Baby Rubber Plant.”

“Well, which are you, my friend? Guess I’ll have to do a little research.” Kent said to it, wiping some dust from its leaves. Gooseflesh rose on his arms as he touched each leathery leaf. He used a plant app for a quick ID and came up with Peperomia obtusifolia, neither a pepper plant nor a ficus.

“Talk about an identity crisis,” he mumbled as he navigated his way out of the garden section and out to the main thoroughfare.

He used the self-checkout. He’d had enough of unfriendly, underpaid, and overworked neon-automatons. Soon, he and his pepper-face/baby rubber plant/peperomia were on the way home. He talked to it as he drove.

“How did you get tucked under the shelf like that? You’re so cute, I’d think you’d be an easy sell. I mean, I guess I’m glad, because now I get to keep you. I can’t wait until you’re big and strong. I’ll fix you up. A little water, some actual light, you’ll be growing in no time.”

Kent laughed at himself, what was he doing? Guess the store had driven him crazier than he thought.

“You know, I don’t normally talk to my plants. I mean, I get why people do I guess, but I’ve never been the type. You though, there’s something about you.” He paused, sneaking a look at the plant riding shotgun before bringing his eyes back to the road.

“You have a presence. Which is funny because you’re like, what, five inches tall? But I feel like there’s something inside you, something sentient. It’s weird, not in a bad way, I mean. Honestly, I really like you.” He paused. What the hell was he saying? To a plant. It was true though, he felt like there was someone in the car with him. Some silent passenger just sitting there, watching. It was weird. Creepy weird. Maybe it was just buyers remorse, the thing did look about to wither and die. It looked worse than it had in the store.

Kent pulled into his garage and took his spoils into the house. He set the plant in the kitchen sink. It was already in a cute, decorative pot, and he didn’t want to stress it out any more than it already was by repotting so soon. But it was so thirsty. He turned on the faucet and let the water fill the plastic nursery pot and run into the decorative pot it sat in. Not too much in the bottom. Just a little extra.

“That should perk you up.” He made some room on the kitchen window sill, it was bright and sunny there, and set the new plant among the others, shivering again as he brushed a leaf. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the plant was watching him. Maybe I’m just hungry. I haven’t eaten all day. It’s just making me feel anxious. He turned from the window and opened the fridge, looking for something quick so he could get out of the kitchen, go sit and watch some TV. Clear his head. As he rummaged he felt goosebumps prickle the back of his neck. I’m losing my damn mind. He wouldn’t let himself turn around. Slamming the fridge closed he opened the freezer, grabbed a frozen macaroni and cheese dinner and turned to the microwave. The frozen dinner hit the floor and bounced on one corner, finally landing like a brick on the linoleum.

A trail of wet dirt and shed leaves led from the kitchen window, down and up the sides of the sink to the little green, thing, standing at the edge of the counter, staring at Kent. There were no words for what he was looking at. The words that did come to mind were woefully inadequate. Elf? Fairy? What else was small and green and wasn’t a frog? It was less than a foot tall, thin and spindly with arms and legs still reminiscent of the plant’s stems. Its hands and feet were tipped with long, thin curved claws. Kent looked around it to the empty pot on the windowsill.

“I really am going crazy.” He looked back at the little green, whatever, on his counter. “Shouldn’t there be some kind of warning signs before you go crazy? People don’t just suddenly go crazy. Although, that’s more likely than my plant turning into a monster.” He ran shaking hands through his hair “Jesus fuck.” The monster just stared at him, it had small beady eyes and a mouth full of teeth jutting out from all directions, like an alligator, but they were longer, more needle like. Its body was thin and saggy, like it hadn’t eaten in a while. These were all observations Kent really didn’t like. He slid carefully to his right. There was a junk drawer there that was bound to have something she could use as a weapon in it. A screwdriver, scissors, pruning shears, ah, a hammer, that would do. He wiggled it out of the drawer, wondering if the thing were smart enough to know what he was up to. A long, thin string of saliva dripped from its mouth as it watched him.

He freed the hammer from the drawer and made his move, lunging across the small space at the thing standing there drooling over him. He swung the hammer sideways to knock it off the counter, but the thing was fast. Faster than Kent. It leapt from the counter, over the hammer, and onto his face, driving its long, needle-like claws into his eyes. Kent dropped to the floor. He reached up to get the thing off his face but his arms wouldn’t move. His eyes were on fire, but he couldn’t close them or shake his head. Nothing would move. Kent tried to scream for help. His mouth wouldn’t work. But he could feel everything. His eyes felt like they were drying out in his head. His head hurt from hitting it on the floor, as did pretty much the entire rest of his his body. His foot was bent uncomfortably underneath him, but didn’t seem to be broken. Although, it did occur to Kent that he was about to die and none of these things mattered. He was aware that the creature was turning him over, face down on the linoleum. He felt it crawl up onto his back, its needle-like claws piercing with every step. There was a tug at his t-shirt collar, then he heard the material ripping. Cold air caressed his spine.

Kent screamed. Hot pain raced up his back as the creature sliced through skin and muscle. Blood ran in tickling rivulets down his sides to the floor. He couldn’t tell what the creature was doing to him but pain began to disappear, little by little, like switches being shut off along his body. Soon he felt nothing but a detached resignation. His other senses were still operating, sight, hearing, smell, but he felt nothing. He could hear squelching noises, hear teeth chomping, smell blood. Even the small grunting noises the creature made. But he couldn’t place the noises within any framework. He couldn’t feel where the creature was, or what it was doing. He lay on the floor for some time, willing himself to move. Whatever it shot into my eyes has to wear off at some point, he told himself. He would just have to wait and keep trying to wriggle his toes, his fingers, anything.

He watched the sun move across the kitchen floor. Just as he was trying to wriggle his toes for the umpteenth time, his elbows shot up and his hands were placed flat underneath his shoulders. No, that’s not what I’m trying to do, Kent was confused, his body was moving without him. Soon he was standing, swaying a little, he put his arm out to steady himself on the fridge. At least, that’s what he tried to do, but it didn’t happen, instead he just took a halting step forward. And then another. Kent realized with rising panic that that thing was controlling him. He screamed uselessly in his head for it to stop, to let him go, but it just walked him into the bathroom and to the mirror. His face was slack and pale, blood soaked his shirt. His body turned around and for a moment he lost his view of the mirror. Then his head turned to look back. If he could have screamed, he would have. His shirt was in tatters and his flesh flopped open like two meaty flaps. In the opening between his spine glistened red, a scrawny green stick body wrapped around it. The creature’s teeth dislodged from his vertebra, and its head turned slowly on its thin neck until it looked behind it into the mirror, its mouth open. Teeth dripping blood and spinal fluid protruded in all directions.

It’s smiling at me. Laughter, or the memory of what laughter felt like, bubbled up into Kent’s head. There was no outlet for it, the crazed hyena giggle in his brain. The thing turned back around, Kent’s slack face came back into view. Then lit up. The thing practiced smiling and saying “Hello!” for hours. It didn’t seem interested in saying anything more than that. Though Kent did try to use his own mouth, he couldn’t get it to work. He tried to communicate with the creature mentally, tried to find it in his mind, but it didn’t seem to be there. It seemed to have motor control, but not any kind of thought control. Not that that helped him. Thoughts were useless without any action behind them. He watched his own face smile and say “Hello!” with a simulacrum’s soulless precision, over and over and over again. It was dark by the time the thing left the bathroom and sat down on the sofa and slept.

It woke in the morning to the doorbell ringing. Kent had been screaming in the dark for hours, trying to wake the thing. Trying to do anything. It rose from the sofa and went to the door, fumbling with the deadbolt before swinging it open.

“Hello!” It said and stood aside. Kent’s mother came rushing in.

“Honey, I’ve been calling you for hours. Are you ok?” His mother put a hand to Kent’s cheek, he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t respond. Then his mother noticed the blood.

“Oh my God! What happened? I’ll call an ambulance. Sit down.” Her face was a rictus of pain and worry as she dug her cell phone out of her purse. Kent wished he could cry for her. The monster inside him didn’t say anything as it shut the door behind them, this time twisting the deadbolt shut smoothly. “Kent, say something to me. What happened to you?” The creature swung the hammer. Kent hadn’t even seen the monster pick it up. His mother dropped. Kent wailed as the creature watched through his eyes the blood pooling under his mother’s head. Mom! Get up! You have to get up! It was useless, on so many levels. He sat back, hiding inside his head as the creature knelt next to his mother, dipped his hands in the pool of blood and brought it to his mouth. It was metallic and salty, he couldn’t gag. He just screamed, soundlessly. He couldn’t look away as the thing bent to his mother’s neck and bit down on her windpipe. He couldn’t refuse to swallow the hot blood that spurted down his throat. He was forced to taste his mothers heart, her liver, kidneys, all brought to his own mouth and shoved in by his own hands. His sweet, perfect mother, devoured. Mommy he wailed like a child. There was nothing else he could do.

They slept after that, the creature and he, right on the floor, next to his mother’s decimated corpse.

Kent didn’t know what time it was when the doorbell rang again. He didn’t bother screaming. Numbness seemed to be settling into his brain as it had his body. The creature, covered in his mother’s blood and bits, opened the door.

“Hello!”

“Babe?” The woman on the porch, Kent’s girlfriend, backed away from the door. Yes! Yes! Go! Run away! The thing fell to its knees, his knees.

“Help me!” His mouth formed the words awkwardly.

“Kent!” She ran to him. No! Get out! The door swung shut behind her. Kent’s body stood, blocking it, clicking the lock shut behind his back. “Oh my God! Is that-” words failed her as she looked up at him in dumb shock. Kent wondered vaguely if she would fight him. If she would even get the chance. She walked further into the room. His mother’s body, ripped open, picked clean, lay between them.

“Hello!”

“Hello? What the fuck, Kent? What, happened?” She was staring down at the carrion left on the wool carpet. Kent’s body walked around his mother’s feet and picked up the hammer. Beth, saw him move and backed away. “Hey, woah, look. You need some help ok?” Her voice wavered. She was so scared. Kent sobbed inside his head. “I don’t know what made you do this, but I don’t think anyone would call this sane, so you know. Let me call the cops, you’ll have to turn yourself in, but we’ll get you some help, ok?”

“Hello!”

“Why do you keep saying that? What happened to you? Are you on drugs?” She backed away from him, tears streaming down her face. She knew the house, she knew where the back door was. Kent could only watch and hope that she got there in time. The hammer was still clutched in his hand. Beth’s foot hit a pillow on the floor, she didn’t fall, but she paused to look down. The creature was on her in seconds, burying the hammer in her skull. She fell. Kent was silent with dread, but the creature didn’t eat. Not this time. It’s still full from eating my mother. Is this what we do now? Just kill and eat and wait and kill again? Oh God who else will show up?

The creature laid back down to sleep. Lazy fucking, asshole! Get up! I can’t take this. I want control! Kent’s body twitched. Yes! Yes, I did that, I know I did! I’m doing it! He twisted and rolled over, then sat up. Haha! Yes! I’m getting that thing out of me! His body stood, walked to the bedroom, and stood in the middle of the floor at the foot of the bed. Kent waited, was he doing this? The creature undid his pants and took them off, then pulled down his underwear. It squatted at the foot of the bed. Kent heard himself grunting. A putrid smell rose up from the carpet. Kent sobbed. The creature, in his body, stood and walked to the bed, crawling onto it, and sleeping once more.

Distant fists pounded on the front door. Kent couldn’t see the front of the house from where the creature lay. But he knew that anyone on the porch would be able to see the bodies on the floor in the front room.

Muffled voices shouted, “Open up! This is the police! You have ten seconds to open this door or we will break it down.”

The cops would shoot his body. This was his only way out now. His body stretched and rolled over onto his face. Kent heard ripping as the creature burst out of his back. Pain came back to him. Intense, searing pain in every part of his body, but he still had no control. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t scream. His head was turned sideways, he watched as the little monster, slick with blood, its belly huge now, waddled to the bedroom door and tucked itself behind it.

“Hands up!” Men burst into the room, guns drawn. Kent didn’t move, he couldn’t. One of the men walked over to him. Fingers pressed against his neck. He felt it. He did feel it.

“Jesus, this guy’s alive.”

“If you can call it that. Look at his fucking back. What the fuck happened here?”

“Get the medics back here! Now!”

“Hopefully he can tell us something, eventually.”

Voices floated around him. Legs strode past his face. He watched the dark space behind the bedroom door. A little black paw reached out from the darkness and batted at one of the cop’s feet.

“What the?”

It crawled out from behind the door. Big green eyes staring up at the men.

“Meow.”

“Oh man, look at this little fella.” The cop picked up the kitten. Tears streamed down Kent’s face. “What are we gonna do with you, huh?”

“Want me to call animal control?”

“Yeah, you better. Can’t exactly babysit a kitten. This place is a shit show.”

“Literally, Jesus.” The detective looked down at the still steaming shit on the carpet, then left, carrying the monster out into the world. EMTs rushed in, Kent let the world go black.