My Little Rabbit

Read My Little Rabbit Online

Authors: James DeSantis

Tags: #horror, #james desantis, #killing your boss, #my little rabbit

BOOK: My Little Rabbit
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“You Should Never Give Up On Yourself” - Clint Eastwood
This is for the people out there who
feel weak
You're not alone

Remember

 

 

That smell.
Sewage combined with burnt flesh. Its stench is far enough even to
reach me down here. The way it flows through the air straight down
four floors is astonishing. My eyes are washed out, blurry; it
feels like I'm in a different world. Foggy. Could this be a
nightmare?
I can't take the chance to find out.
A door just cracked open. Footsteps, low but undoubtedly creaking
the soundboard above me. I shiver. The more thoughts I have of that
thing approaching, the quicker my stomach churns. Maybe I should
run. What's the sense of hiding? If it finds me it'll tear me to
shreds. Least running I might have a chance of surviving.

*
DING*

My attention shoots to the
left and one flight above. Something hard just hit a metal surface.
What was that? Shit, I can't recall what was up there. A piano with
a few books between it and a couch. A busted TV as well. I can't
remember anything metal.

*
DING*

I jump. My heart is pounding
at an extraordinarily fast speed and my palms are sweaty from
staying in the exact same spot for the last twenty-two minutes and
seventeen seconds.
Eighteen.
Nineteen.
“Come out, come out, my little bunny rabbuut!”

His voice is chilling, the way he pronounces
the word rabbit with some gleefulness. It's like a six-year-old
getting his first pet, except this sick fuck wants to dissect me
like some goddamn science class project.

“Why do you fear me? I'm your friend,
remember? I've been trying to see you so we can be bestest pals. So
why aren't you talking to me?” I, of course, don't respond. I'd be
a damn idiot to. He knows that, so why then is he trying to lure me
out in the dumbest fashion possible?
“COME OUT YOU LITTLE SHIT!!!”

I feel myself urinate. My body is shaking and
chills aren't just running down my spine, they're grabbing a hold
and moving in. My eyes stare through the cracks above my head and I
can see a shadow going over the area I'm peeping through.

“So we continue our cat and mouse game, huh?
Why do you do this to me?” He slams whatever he's holding against
the piano. A key goes off and a devastating crushing sound follows.
What he has is able to break a piano...my mind goes blank.

I could barely breathe.
I can't stop shaking.
What in the--
A dragging sound. A step. Two steps. Three. Four. Five.
Six-seven-eight...shit he's moving faster.

I get up from crouching.

He slams into a door and with some miracle it
holds firm. I don't bother to even check back, I just keep on
crawling my way towards the other side of where that sound came
from. My heart is slamming so hard I don't even hear the second
crash, just the roars of a psychotic madman. I reach out and
finally feel it. The knob.

*
CRASH*
This time I do turn back.
His face lights up like the damned Fourth of July when he sees me
on the other side. His grin is so big. His eyes narrow down and
they're so thin they look almost snake-like. The way they point so
precise, as if to show you how evil he can be. However, it's the
white makeup with two green cheeks that make him most horrifying.
Calling him a clown would be too much of a compliment. A man
dressed in a fitted gown but instead of coming off elegant, fell on
his face and ruined his own work. A scary, wrongly made, devilishly
disgusting creature.

He was coming right towards me.

I turned the knob. It's tight, not turning
all the way. I use my body's force to try to break it open. No
luck. I turn back to see the clown-man crawling towards me, halfway
to his target. I turn back around and use my shoulder again.
Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

I turn back to see him inching closer. His
tongue sticks out like a dog waiting for a treat. He's begging to
get a bite of me. To taste my flesh.

“No!” I holler and slam myself with
everything I have against the door.

It flies open and I go with it.

“You can run my little rabbit, but you cannot
escape me.” His serpentine tongue slides out and makes a motion
like a windshield wiper across his face. His tongue stopping on his
nose and goes up higher and higher, till it reaches well above his
head. It's almost comedic in a way. Except for the part where I'm
terrified.
“Get away from me,” I finally mutter.

He begins to giggle. Not laugh, but giggle,
like a little schoolgirl. My anger flares up as I look back at him.
Why does he not approach?
“Stop laughing!” I shout.

His giggles become louder.

“I said, stop laughing at me!” I roar.

His giggles begin to slow down to the point
of coming to a complete halt. “Why, my little rabbit? Are you
scared you'll remember?”

“Remember?” I question.

“Yes, my my, how time goes by. You don't
wanna come face to face with high tides, but the lies built upon
lies, will get you caught like flies.”

I back away. “You're a psycho.”

“Oh, am I?” His teeth show, razor sharp.

“Just stay the hell away from me.” This whole
time I'm backing up, not even looking behind to where I'm
going.

“We can only run so long before you're
caught. Little rabbit...don't wonder too far into the field. You
might not like what you see.” The giggles are replaced with a heavy
laugh.

I turn and run.

Sister

 

 

As I ran I recalled how I ended up here. My
sister was coming in to town despite my advice to stay back home.
She told me that was nonsense, that she needed some alone time with
her little sister. I was completely against the idea, but it's hard
to keep someone away when they're dying to see you. So I
reluctantly made arrangements for her stay. Cleared out a room, put
some food in the fridge, even cleaned the bathroom. Anything to
make her trip comfortable (and less of a chance of my getting a
headache.)

She came in last night at around nine
o'clock. As her car pulled up Rocko, my eighty-pound lab, began
barking furiously at the door. Funny enough even if it was someone
coming to do harm he'd probably jump up on the burglar and give
them a big fat kiss. I pulled his collar and pushed him to the
side, opening the door to let her in.

“Oh, look at you,” she squealed as she rushes
in for a hug. Her grip is tight, and her hands easily fit around my
body as she squeezed. “I've missed you so much!” I feel deaf from
her excitement. Rocko was jumping up and down on us with his new
energy of love that he must share.

She let go and bended to pet Rocko. I shifted
my shoulders, rubbing my body, and nodded. “I missed you too.”

“Yeah? Sure don't sound like it on the
phone.”

I groaned. “I just wanted to spend some time
alone.”

“You mean more time? All you've been doing is
spending time alone.”

“Yeah, that's my choice. I'm an adult,
remember?”

She stood up and flicked my forehead. “Yeah,
I remember. Just try to keep in mind that you have people who care
about you and love you. Including your sister.” She walked in
further and took a tour of the place for herself. I shut the door
behind her, looked at Rocko, and shook my head.

“Bad idea boy, bad idea.”

We eventually ended up in the living room
after she commented on how nice my kitchen was (yeah right) and how
much she loved the color I picked for my bedroom (lies). As we sat
down she got herself comfortable and smiled at me. I smiled back,
trying not to stare into her eyes for too long.

“Well, do you want to talk about--”

“No.” I answered quickly. “How is Derek?
Sam?” I quickly bounced back.

“Fine,” she answered quickly.

“Good.” I did care about my brother-in-law
and nephew, but it was more of a diversion.

“Listen, I know it's tough--”

“Meg, just drop it, okay?” I said
sternly.

“I'm here to help.”

“I don't need your help.”

“You put all this pressure on yourself.
Why?”

I rubbed my temple with both fingers. “You
really don't like taking no for an answer do you?”

“I just want to figure this out.”

I stood up and shook my
head. “You just want everything to fall into your lap so you
can
fix
it.” I
began to walk towards the kitchen.

“Hey, come on now, that's not fair. You know
that's not true.” She followed me, like I expected something
different?

I opened the fridge and grab a can of soda.
I began gulping it down as she strode in. Her face was red, clearly
annoyed with how I was acting. Which was funny seeing a freckled
redhead getting even redder. “I don't know why you have to be
so...so...”

“I told you Megan, I don't need your help. I
don't need anyone's help. I just wish you'd stay back in Jersey.” I
took another sip, awaiting a response.

“Fine. I'll leave tomorrow night. You
clearly don't want me here.” She turned and walked towards the
bedroom. Moments later I heard a door shut loudly and a scream. A
typical habit my sister did growing up. I grin as if I won some
type of victory in a battle. I had pissed my sister off, who was
only trying to help, and thought of that as a win.

It was better than the alternative.

 

Okay

 

 

The field crops are up to my chest. Each one
is brushing by me as I continue to stride across the field of
whatever the hell I'm in. I only stop because my stomach begins to
growl, my heart is still racing, and my feet are getting as weary
as the rest of my body. My eyes feel heavy, as if they're about to
shut any moment. If the crazy clown-looking man wasn't going to
kill me I might die of an heart attack. I rub my long sleeved shirt
on my mouth and study my environment.

The yellowish crops give off a terrible
odor. At first I can't pinpoint what it is. It smells of something
wicked, though. As if a animal died and was left for months. I
search my area but nothing is tracing me back to the source. The
deadly smell keeps creeping into my nostrils and I'm beginning to
feel nauseous.

A quick shake of the crops from the left
make me jump.

I eye it closely, waiting for any quick
movements.

“Hello?” I ask to nothing.

No other creaks, everything is silent. Could
have it been an animal?

A shadow is within the crops. I could see
it. I could feel someone watching me. What? The clown? No.
Something else. Its eyes directly on me, as if studying me. I take
a step back. I hear something snap in half from the original spot
where I heard a sound. Something or someone is there. My ears are
ringing with a pounding sound. I take another step back. I hear
something else snap. The shadow is growing. My heart is blasting
now.

I about-face and jet.

I was never a runner. In fact I hated even
jogging. I could never make the team in high school, nor did I care
to. Still, my mother told me it was a good extra sport to pick up.
Too bad I skipped just about everyday because stamina sure would
come in handy right now.

As I run I can still smell the dead animal
aroma. As if it's following me. Could that be? What the hell, that
shadow could be something dead. I saw a clown who had a tongue
larger than a butcher knife. Anything is possible right now.

I skid to a stop a few yards away and check
back. Nothing. No shadow following me. No crops being pushed away
in favor of somebody stampeding through them. Just the quiet chilly
night, my shallow breathes, and the awful smell.

I turn to walk ahead when there stands a
man. He's in a long white coat, his tallish figure easily
overshadowing me, his hands shaking. I stumble back, nearly
tripping on myself, and look at him. He was a fairly reasonably
good looking guy. Tall, six feet probably, blond hair, in shape. He
was perfect, except for the fact that his eye sockets were missing
eyeballs.

He took a step forward, opens his mouth, and
tries to mutter a word.

It makes me shake with fear.

A gurgling sound erupts from his mouth;
spit, mucus, spraying everywhere. No sound however except for that.
No words are being muttered.

I feel the need to sprint in the opposite
direction. You know, not stand around a man with no eyeballs.
However, I can't just run. I feel the need to know why he's here.
What does he want? What is he saying.

“Speak,” I say steadily, despite my legs
trembling uncontrollably.

“A-a-a-r---” He begins but shuts his trap a
moment later. He looks at me, and in his eyes I see a sadness.
Almost as if he hates that he can't tell me what he's thinking.

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