MicroHorror

100 dB
Mrs. Doan stood at the blackboard, her back to the class, chalk pinched between her fingertips. Her long, slender arm moved in wide arcs as she drew. When she was finished, she faced the class and pointed to the diagram. Her lips moved, explaining something, but Joe couldn’t hear her. His ears were useless now.

110 dB
The whispers of his classmates were gone, drowned out, muted. Joe could no longer hear them as they talked in hushed tones behind his back. As they pointed and snickered each time he ate a painkiller, choking it down with nothing to drink. Each time he clutched his head and groaned.

120 dB
He laid his head on the desk and closed his eyes. Blood dripped from his ear.

130 dB
Something struck Joe hard on the top of his head. He looked up and found a piece of broken chalk on his desk, Mrs. Doan standing at the board with a disapproving scowl on her face. The other kids were laughing, silent holes stretched wide. Fillings. Fangs. Forked tongues.

140 dB
KILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKI–

150 dB
He popped another pill.

160 dB
The smart kids’ hands went up, eager fingertips thrust toward the ceiling. Mrs. Doan scanned the room, her eyes navigating the forest of flesh, feigning indecision. But Joe knew where they would settle. The same place they always settled.

170 dB
Joe slipped his hand into his book bag and took out the gun. He almost wished he could hear the screams.

• Copyright: © 2008 Chris Reed

It’s bedtime, honey. Why all the crying in here? Oh, I know, I know… it’s hard to lay on your back with those tumors in the way. But the ones on your belly are even bigger. So let Daddy roll you over and pop your pacifier back in. There. That better? Probably be easier to keep it in your mouth if you didn’t have that cleft lip. But don’t you worry, darlin’, a little duct tape’ll fix everything. There, how’s that? Sucker ain’t goin’ nowhere now, is it? Yeah, I know it’s hard to breathe with only one nostril, but you’ll be alright as long as you keep your finger outta your nose. Hey… hey, why you cryin’ now, sweetie? You know I done apologized a million times for tryin’ to poison your mama. I just didn’t think we could afford another baby. But everything’s okay now. She pulled through and so did you. You might look a little different, but you’re still Daddy’s favorite girl. Aww… it’s so cute when you wave at me with your flipper like that, but we got a long day at the circus tomorrow, girl. Rent’s due and we’ll probably have to work you a few extra hours. Now close that beautiful blue eye and get some sleep.

Sweet dreams, baby.

Good night.

• Copyright: © 2008 Chris Reed