Unremarkable

By

Jason Frederick Myers

I am everywhere and nowhere.

I am not confined to an old house or distant forest. No coffin or cemetery can hold me. I am free from the constraints of mortal existence. Nothing can hinder my desires, no spell, prayer, or holy artifact. I am a monster by definition only, for I can take many shapes. I blend in amongst your kind, unencumbered by time, the light as much of an ally as the darkness. I do not need knives and axes; my power lies in my utility. I kill or maim at will and yet leave no trace. I can be anything and yet nothing. You’ve seen my victims on TV and social media, their deaths camouflaged amongst the everyday accidents and misfortunes of your world.

Living a good life will not protect you. There is no pattern, quota, or full moon to guide my motives. I am my own master, and my wrath is that of indifference. I need not lurk in your closet or under your bed waiting for you to fall asleep, for I am just as likely your favorite comforter waiting for your eyes to succumb to fatigue, your skin delicately beginning to tingle as I tighten my grip to smother you in your sleep. I’m the shiny waistbelt that caught your eye online, slithering up to wrap around your neck when you are alone in your room. I am a creature, yes, but one of comforts. I come to my victims not with fangs but as the circuit breaker you thought was off, waiting in silence to cook the organs inside you. The shiny new ladder hanging in the garage, ready to snap your bones into pieces. The lifejacket you trust to keep you afloat, waiting for the right moment to pull you under when no one is watching.

Nowhere is safe from my reach, for I am at the top of the food chain, a killer with a higher body count than all the other monstrosities of your world combined. I can even get inside you, a loose gas line infiltrating your lungs, poisoning the blood in your veins. By the time you feel my presence, it's too late, and even those that do survive will never be the same. After all, who will believe them?

In the end, there is no need for fear or worry. Such human emotions are futile.  There is nothing you can do to stop me. Though my ways may be unassuming, my desires can never be assuaged. This is just my nature.

But just maybe, if you're lucky, our paths will never cross. Perhaps I will lose interest and move on from your world, an invisible storm rolling through the universe, looking for other lifeforms to extinguish. Maybe you’ll live a long, oblivious life like many of your kind.

Then again, maybe our paths have already crossed. Perhaps I am the pillow providing you comfort, or the hoodie you’re wearing beginning to feel a little too tight. I could be the screen you are watching or reading on, waiting for you to lean in closer to explode in your face. You may have even caught a glimpse of me, a tiny face in the pattern of a wood board you’re about to cut with a saw, waiting to bathe in your blood, or a friendly smile on the surface of your favorite food ready to be consumed so my claws can expand in your throat.

But, in the end, it matters little. You will write me off as a strange coincidence, a trick of the eye, not worth a second look, for I am many things and still nothing. I am nowhere, then suddenly as close as a whisper.  I will not lurch from the shadows, a hairy beast ready to rip out your throat, or a pale haunter of the night thirsty for blood, for what I am is far more terrifying.

I am unremarkable.

END

Jason Frederick Myers (He/Him) lives in the upstate of South Carolina, USA. A lifelong horror fan, he grew up reading Clive Barker, Shirley Jackson, and Stephen King and draws inspiration from the classics that terrified him as a child. His fiction can be found or is forthcoming in DarkWinter Lit, Black Sheep, Anvil Magazine, The Horror Zine, and various anthologies.  Follow him on X @Jasonfmyers