It's a hell of a thing, knowing the Creeping Things are out there. Really knowing, I mean. Everyone knows that there are times when they're alone in a room, but they're not really alone. Everyone knows that sometimes they do things that don't really make any sense and they can't really tell you why. Everyone knows that sometimes they feel nervous or sad or angry for no real reason. That's the kind of way most people know about the Creeping Things. But... it's a lot worse when you really know about them.
You can't honestly say anything about it, for one thing. Oh, every once in a while, I'll catch someone's eye across a crowded room and they've got that same look on their face that I do, and I'll know that they're seeing the same thing I am. We've trained ourselves not to react when we see one of the Creeping Things with their inky-dark bodies slinking through the crowd, long and lanky and dripping shadow as they crouch down behind their victim and smile with mouths too big for their eyeless faces. We know what happens to the ones who shout and scream and holler when they see those too-long arms reach up and caress the back of a person's neck with fingers that look like a spider's legs. But you can't hide the way you stare at a thing like that.
But even if you think someone else knows, that doesn't mean they're safe to talk to. Seeing the Creeping Things, it starts to get to you after a while. I've been living with it for damn near twenty years now, since right about the time I got my driver's license, and I'd be lying if I said I've had an easy night's sleep since then. I must have pulled up stakes and moved a dozen times, I been in and out of trouble with the law, and I'm what you'd call one of the well-adjusted ones. You don't want to start saying to someone, "You saw that, right?" and find out that they think the Creeping Things are what black people look like when they think nobody's looking.
(God yes, it happened. That was one of the times I ran into trouble with the law. Some folks just need to catch a fist or two, even if they do have their reasons for going a little bit nuts.)
And it's even harder when you're talking to someone who doesn't know. I remember one time I was serving drinks down in this little town outside of Tuscaloosa, just trying to scrape up enough cash to move on down the road a spell, and there was this couple flagging me down every five minutes for another round. And goddamn if they didn't have a Creeping Thing on either side of them, smiling those needle-toothed grins and leaning in to nuzzle their heads like leeches. Making her look all lost and weak and simpering, and making him act like a little tin god who thought his cock was solid gold. And I had to take their orders and act like nothing was even happening. God, it was terrible. I went home that night and cried until sunup.
They came back, too. Not the people, the Creeping Things. Every night, they came back until I gave up on the job and hitched my way to the next town. They love people like me. I think they think we're funny. Or maybe we're just better food than the ones who can't see them for what they really are.
I got a lot of theories. That happens when you got nothing but time to think about something, and no way to know for sure if you're right or not. But I been watching the Creeping Things for damn near twenty years now, like I said, and I got a few ideas about what they are and why they do what they do. I think they feed on people. Not, like, physically or anything. Nobody's gonna wake up with a bite taken out of them, not unless they do something stupid like go after one with a knife or a gun or something. (That happened, too. Guy I was dating decided to try to 'do something' about them. I still have nightmares about what they did to him.)
No, I think they feed on your... hell, I'm not a preacher or nothing, but I think they feed on your soul. They lean in and they give those creepy fucking kisses of theirs, right on the side of your head like they're whispering in your ear, and something kind of changes inside you. Something that makes it easy for them to swallow down everything that makes you human. I don't exactly know what they're doing in there, and I think maybe it's a little different for everyone. But I been around enough people to know that they change after the Creeping Things get inside their head.
A lot of times, they get meaner. Like the guy in the bar, telling his girlfriend to give him a handy where he knew I could see it. Or... I remember staying in an apartment in Atlanta once, next door to a couple who couldn't see the Creeping Things. Sweetest damn girls you ever met, saw the sun rise and set in each other's eyes. I tried to warn them when a pair moved in, but... it's hard, when you can't really say what you're talking about, you know? I kind of said something mealy-mouthed about the landlord or the plumbing or something, but they were kind of like me. Low on cash, low on options. They didn't have any place to go any more than I did.
And sure enough, the butch one, Darlene, she... I could hear them through the walls at night. Used to be just lots of giggling and moaning, but after the Creeping Things moved in... she started to tell her girlfriend to do stuff. Stuff that I could tell little Jennie didn't want to do. But the Creeping Things got working inside their head, and every day a little more of the light went out of Jennie's eyes and every day Darlene got a little bit more demanding, a little bit more aggressive. I could hear her making Jennie beg her to tan that poor little hide. I think if I didn't know about the Creeping Things, I'd probably say they were just getting kind of kinky in the bedroom and let it go, but... God, you should have seen Jennie's eyes when the Creeping Things were kissing her. Like she was forgetting how to be a person anymore.
