MicroHorror

I’m eating bacon and eggs on toast, and drip ketchup onto the plate like blood from a fresh wound. Cassie used to tell me off for playing with my food like this, but she doesn’t eat with me anymore. She was out late last night. I can hear her bumping around in the back room, moaning. She always moans first thing in the morning. It used to be about domestic stuff, cups left in the sink overnight, socks on the bedroom floor, toothpaste with the cap off. Now she moans for the sake of moaning, with no real idea why she does it.

After clearing the dishes, I check on Cassie. Her hair is wispy and hasn’t been brushed. Her skirt is dirty, her blouse ripped, and she’s wearing no shoes. Even from the doorway the smell of her breath is like snorting a decaying rat. She walks towards me with her arms open, like for a hug, and stops at the gate, salivating through the muzzle. The moaning gets louder. Jesus, Cassie, you’re not the woman I married.

When she died I thought she was gone forever. You do, don’t you. We’d planned her funeral down to the last detail and said our goodbyes. She looked half dead from the chemo. Of course, we didn’t understand what half dead meant back then. I was sort of pleased to see her when she came back. She looked like shit warmed up, and the funeral plans went out of the window, but at least she wasn’t lying rotting somewhere. She was just trying to tear me limb from limb and eat me.

I shit, shower, shave and get ready for the office. Frank will be around soon for a lift. First, I run the Hoover around the lounge. It’s the only time I get to not hear Cassie moaning. I’ve tried to retrain her, but it’s tough. I can wrap her fingers around the handle and get her to push the Hoover across the room, but her sense of direction is shot away and her concentration wanders. She soon shuffles round and starts coming for me, salivating, moaning, reaching out.

The stun gun has been on charge overnight. Green light. I fetch a blouse from upstairs, the flowery one she wore on her 40th birthday. I zap her, to remind her who’s the boss. She staggers back and lets out a long, loud moan. You have to be cruel to be kind. One mistake and I’d have to sever her spinal cord, and that really would be the end. I remove her torn blouse. She’s naked underneath, and her breasts are covered in saliva. She gnashes her teeth behind the muzzle. I have to work quickly. I’m running late so I leave yesterday’s skirt on her, push her feet into some comfortable shoes, then give her another good zap and remove the muzzle in one swift movement.

With the back door opened, I guide her outside, avoiding her sweeping arms. She keeps looking back at me so I have to shove her a little. She moans her appreciation and blinks for a moment in the sunlight, then she’s off, wobbling down the garden path as though she’s on board a ship, almost losing her balance.

Cassie bumps into Lorraine from three doors away, but there’s no recognition other than the fact that she’s not food. Doug and Sally, Greg, Saffron, Louise, they all head slowly down the beach road, arms wide, eyes empty, hoping there’ll be some tourists. And then I freeze. It’s Frank. Shuffling down the road. Half an arm missing. He moans as he wanders past, without looking at me.

Poor Frank, he must’ve gotten careless. There’s not many of us left down here now. It’ll soon be time to move on, but I can’t leave Cassie. Not yet. Not while she still needs me.