MicroHorror

Jack sat with his family around the dining room table.

“So how was school today?”

Jack’s daughter, Nikki, was halfway through the fifth grade.

“It was okay,” she said. “We didn’t have art ’cause Mrs. Tippet was sick.”

Jack frowned. “That’s too bad. Everything else was good?” Nikki nodded. Jack turned to his son.

“How about you, Jeff?”

Jack’s son, Jeffrey, was a sophomore in high school.

“Not bad. Coach is running us ragged at practice, but he says it’ll make men out of us”.

Jack chuckled. “I seem to remember Coach Roberts telling us the exact same thing.”

“How was your day, Jack?”
Jack’s wife, Teresa sat across from him at the dinner table. Every time Jack looked at her he was reminded of how lucky he was to have found her.

“Not bad,” he said. “The Pinter account’s giving us some grief, but considering the economy I think we’re doing all right. How about you, sweetheart?”

Teresa opened her mouth to answer, but instead of words all that came out was a surprised squeaking sound. Teresa lifted up from the table and floated toward the ceiling. She looked down at Jack with a peaceful half-smile on her face.

“What the hell?” Jack stared as Teresa disappeared through the ceiling. The last thing he saw was her shoes dissolving through the plaster.

Jack looked around the table, and was shocked to see Nikki and Jeffrey also floating up from the table. They each had that same angelic look on their faces.

Jack got up and ran around to Nikki. He grabbed her ankle just before she floated out of his reach. She continued to rise, pulling Jack off the floor with her. Nikki started to disappear, floating higher and higher. Her ankle reached the ceiling, and rather than following her through, Jack’s hand stopped at the hard surface. Nikki’s ankle slipped through his fingers, and Jack tumbled to the floor in a heap. By the time he got up, Jeffrey’s feet were passing through the plaster. Jack watched them disappear, then ran toward the apartment door.

Jack stepped out into the street and looked up. He couldn’t see the sun, but it was very bright outside and he shielded his eyes. His jaw dropped open at what he saw. The sky was full of people floating up into the air like balloons carelessly set adrift by children. Men, women and children, young and old filled the sky. The sky itself was brighter than normal–almost white rather than its usual light blue.

Jack looked around and saw he wasn’t the only person observing the phenomenon. On his block alone there were probably two dozen people standing outside, gazing up into the sky.

That was when Jack heard the first scream. He turned and looked down the block. Mrs. Flaherty, whose husband owned the grocery store down the street, was sinking into the sidewalk. She was looking down at her feet and screaming. She flailed her arms as she disappeared down into the concrete. Her screams were cut off as her mouth passed through the sidewalk, then she was gone.

More screams, as more of Jack’s neighbors descended through the sidewalk. In the sky, the last of the people who had floated away were nothing more than pinpoints now.

Jack heard a cracking sound at his feet. He looked down as the pavement separated. Smoke rose from the fissure, carrying the stink of sulfur to his nose. As Jack turned to run a scaly blood-soaked hand with long, sharp nails darted out through the crack in the sidewalk and wrapped around Jack’s ankle, holding him in place. Jack’s skin sizzled under the grip, and as he sank into the ground his screams joined the others in their ghastly chorus.