Hey all, Annabelle here with the next chapter of Home for Horny Monsters! If you haven't read it from the beginning, this isn't a good chapter to start, as a lot won't make sense. Go back and read the first parts, I'll wait!
For those of you who are ready, I love putting my stories here, everybody is so supportive!
As promised, this chapter has our newest monster, and I hope you love her! Mike is about to take a trip on the weird side, so without further ado, I present to you:
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Nightmares and Dreamscapes
His soul floated, hiding just beneath his skin, dreading the moment that his eyes would open, streaming reality in High Definition through his very being. It wasn't that he was afraid to face the morning, but rather that he was afraid of how much pain he would be in upon awaking.
The morning before, his whole being had been in agony. Between fucking Jenny out of Beth and then carrying Beth home, he wondered if his body would decide to be tired or sore instead. How does a body decide how miserable to make its owner anyway? Mike contemplated his day from behind closed eyes, wondering if he could trick Tink into bringing him food to eat while he stayed in bed. She couldn't cook for him, and he was fairly certain the fridge was nearly empty.
Shit. He also needed to feed the Mandragora. He could picture those vines, creeping along the side of the house, searching for fresh meat. With the events of yesterday, it had gotten forgotten, but it needed to be a priority today. How much meat did a magical plant need? He pictured Emily in his mind, tossing a couple of pounds of beef on the lawn. The plant was probably far hungrier after so many months without food. Or maybe it had taken to eating strays that happened onto the lawn?
Ugh. Eyes open, he silently cursed the light that was already crossing the hard, wooden floor of his room. Pushing the blankets away, he saw that Tink had already left. Bracing for the worst, he sat up in bed, ready for the inevitable checklist of agonies to pile up.
Except nothing happened. Puzzled, he rolled his shoulders around, tilted his head back and forth, and wiggled his legs. He felt absolutely fine.
"What the fuck?" He wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Rising, he walked to the bathroom, took a leak, and popped into the bathroom. The huge tub was empty.
"Hey Naia." He sat on the edge of the tub, waiting for the faucet to turn on. Strangely, the tub remained silent. "Hello?" He called, leaning in the tub, waiting for her to appear. He sat this way for several minutes, puzzled that she didn't answer. Shaking his head, he figured he would go out to the garden and see what she was up to.
Walking down the hallway, he was surprised at how quiet the house was. At the top of the stairs, he stopped to stare at the wardrobe at the other end of the hall, its silver handle gleaming, begging to be opened.
"Feed the Mandragora, feed the Mandragora," he muttered, walking downstairs. In the kitchen, his laptop was on the table, but there was no sign of Tink. Making himself a quick breakfast of Eggos and coffee, he turned his laptop on, clicking on his web browser.
Nothing happened. Puzzled, he tried again, but the program wouldn't open. He rebooted his computer, eating his syrup soaked Eggos and slamming his coffee, refilling his mug while he waited. His computer screen came back on, but it wouldn't display anything other than a blue screen.
"What the fuck?" Either he had contracted a massive virus, or he was experiencing hardware failure. Swearing to himself, he wondered if Tink had been screwing around on his laptop this morning. "Tink? Hey Tink!" Wandering from room to room, he saw no sign of the goblin. In fact, everything was in perfect order, the mess from yesterday's fight all cleaned up as if it hadn't even happened.
"Strange." Casting a suspicious glance at the living room, Mike walked out into the garden, stopping in his tracks. Naia's fountain was caked in dirt and mud again, as if he had never cleaned it out. Running up to the edge, all he could think was that, somehow, the magic had been cut off from her spring again.
"Shit, shit, shit!" He shoved his way into the garage, maneuvering through the boxes to get to the work bench. Grabbing supplies, he ran back outside. "Tink! Abella! Help!" Kneeling in the fountain, he frantically scrubbed at the caked mud, trying to remember where he shad seen the water flowing from.
"Naia! Naia, are you in there?" Scooping up dirt, he saw the stony figure tucked away from the garden, hidden behind the bushes. "Abella! Abella, come help me!"
She didn't move. Tossing his trowel aside, Mike vaulted the lip of the fountain. "Abella, the fountain is..."
Abella was wrapped in the vines of the Mandragora, her body perfectly still. Mike grabbed the vines, tearing them off with his bare hands. "Oh shit, Abella!" It only took him a minute, the vines tearing away easily beneath his hands. Pushing against her, he pressed his face to hers, hoping that she would feel his warmth. "Abella, please, wake up!"
She remained motionless, stuck in statue form. Mike ran back into the house, shoving open the front door and colliding with someone who had been standing on the porch. Papers flew everywhere, and Mike spun wildly, tripping over himself and tipping over the railing into the bushes below.
"Ow, fuck!" Mike crawled free of the bushes to find that Beth was busy picking up the papers he had spilled everywhere. She was on her hands and knees, her white skirt hiked up over her ass, revealing a bright red pair of panties that matched her top. Mike scrambled up the stairs, grabbing a handful of her papers. "I am so sorry!"
"Don't worry about it Mr. Ra-Mike." Beth blushed at him, accepting the papers. Mike knelt to grab another one, his eyes struggling to focus on the words. They seemed to swim in front of his eyes, but Beth snatched it away from him before he could get a better look at it. Her bun had come undone, a large strand of hair hanging free down the back of her neck. "I thought I would drop by and bring you some paperwork, but I'm afraid it's gotten all out of sorts."
"Oh, yes, right, come in." Mike helped her to her feet, staring at the way her breasts strained the buttons of her blouse while she stood. Looking back at the street, he started to follow Beth inside when he saw that the porch swing was unhooked, lying on the porch. "I'll meet you in the kitchen," he told her, picking up the swing and reattaching it.
"Cecilia, where are you?" He asked, giving the swing a gentle push. He was answered only by the harsh metallic screech of metal on metal.
Beth stood in the kitchen leaning back against the table. Something about her stance immediately unnerved him-it was too familiar. Did she remember what had happened yesterday? "I didn't think you were coming back until Friday," he told her.
"I don't think we scheduled anything that far out," Beth told him. "I'm just bringing by the paperwork I mentioned yesterday, as well as an offer from the Historical Preservation Society. These very nice ladies call me on almost a daily basis to see if you will sell."
MIke stared at her. "You mean the offer I turned down earlier this week?"
"Mike, are you feeling okay?" Beth moved closer to him, lines of concern crossing her face. "You told me last night that you weren't certain if you were going to keep the place."
"Last night?" Mike felt the world spinning around him. "Like, you remember being here yesterday?"
