The Bone Eaters
Airports might not be the best scenario for horror stories. Crime and mystery maybe. However, this was the prompt for a story a few days ago on the Daily Prompt app so I had to think of something. Came up with the below story of a man trying to run away from an invisible danger - invisible but for him - while carrying a rather unusual load. As unusual as gross... Enjoy The Bone Eaters!
The Bone Eaters
George got out of the taxi and walked into the airport. He was pale and sweaty, carrying the burden of what he knew was inside his suitcase. He had vomited several times that morning, knowing that if they caught him it would be his end. He had to get out of the country as soon as possible and could only hope he had disguised well what he was carrying. The fear of being caught by them though was far stronger than the fear of being caught by the metal detector. He had to run the risk.
When he handed his passport and reservation code to the assistant, he was shaking like a small child who’s afraid of being caught red-handed.
“Are you ok, sir?” she asked while typing his info into the computer.
“Yes. I just hate flying. Makes me very nervous.” he said rubbing his fingers against his throat and taking a deep breath.
“I am so sorry. Would you like a window seat?”
“No, I actually prefer the aisle.”
“What about your suitcase?”
“I’d prefer taking it with me if possible. It’s not even 10kgs.”
“Sure. Did you pack it yourself? Anything sharp inside?”
George didn’t hear her. He was staring at the opposite side of the airport in perfect horror. He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and tried to breathe regularly. They were there. They knew.
“Sir, are you sure you are ok?” the lady asked.
“Yes, I packed it myself. No, nothing sharp. Please let me go.” he let out faintly, never taking his eyes off them on the other side. The airport buzz was also making I’m dizzy.
The attendant frowned her eyebrows. George sounded too eager to get out of there for someone who dreaded flying.
“Here’s your boarding pass. Have a good flight.” she said, giving his his passport and ticket, which George immediately grabbed. He rushed out of there, not noticing that the attendant grabbed the phone to make a call.
He kept walking towards the metal detector, praying that nobody would notice what was inside his suitcase and, above all, praying they would not catch him. Then they looked at him. George swallowed his nausea, trying not to vomit at the sight of their terribly disgusting and distorted faces. But they ran to him and by the time George placed his suitcase in the tray he was panicking.
“Sir, are you ok? Please remove your belt and shoes and place them on another tray.”
George was panting. They were approaching and would kill him. Worse, they would catch what he had in his suitcase.
“Hey, grab that man!” he heard someone say. “Suspicious contents in his suitcase.”
Unable to resist the pressure, George started shouting. Two cops immediately approached and held his arms behind his back.
“Please let me go, they are here and they are going to kill me.” he implored, beads of sweat pouring from his forehead and temples. He was as pale as a ghost.
The cops looked around. There wasn’t anyone coming in their direction. At least not that they could see. But George was literally having a fit. So much so that his legs collapsed and he would have fallen on his knees if the cops had not held him.
“Let me go, please just let me go.” he cried.
“Sir, you need to explain what’s in your suitcase.” the assistant said as he took it off the conveyor belt. With his hand, he asked the cops to follow him into a cubicle close by. George shouted louder, trying to escape.
“They are here, they are going to catch me.”
“Nice try. Nobody is here.”
Inside the cubicle, the cops opened the suitcase. Immediately the stinking smell of something that could only be rotten infected the small area. The cops and the assistant frowned their eyebrows and covered their noses, disgusted at the prospect of what they would find.
“Jesus Christ!” the assistant exclaimed as he started removing the bloodied pieces of newspaper George had placed inside to conceal the real contents of the suitcase.
For a split second, the shock weakened the two cops so much that they almost let George go. But his faint push called them back to reality.
“What is the meaning of this?” the assistant babbled, covering his mouth. “These are... sweet Jesus... you have bones and chunks of flesh in your suitcase.”
When they stared at George waiting for his explanation, he bursted into another fit, shouting like a lunatic, like someone who was being attacked by bees or something even more painful.
“They’re here! The Bone Eaters are here.”
The other men looked around. There was nobody there besides the four of them. Was George mad? He dropped on the floor, spasms shaking his body as he kept shouting.
“Don’t let them kill me! Please don’t let them kill me!”
His eyes rolled up and foam came to his mouth.
“Call the paramedics. This man seems to be having an epileptic attack.” one of the cops said to the other.
George kept shaking and shouting. Outside, people stared at the cubicle, wondering what could be happening inside.
“You’ll never have my mother’s bones, you bastards. Never!”
He contorted on the floor, much to the cop’s despair who was trying to immobilise him. The assistant could only stare in the deepest shock, unable to move.
“She is the last witch and you want her magic bones, but you’ll never ever get her. You will never have her power!”
The paramedics walked in with the second cop. To their horror, small holes bursted open in George’s chest. Blood oozed. He shouted in terror and pain, foaming from his mouth like a rabid animal.
“What the hell is this?” one of the paramedics asked as George’s white shirt reddened. They tried to pick him up from the floor but he was just kicking and punching the air, shaking his head so violently that they wouldn’t be surprised if it flew off his neck.
“He seems possessed by something.”
“Please don’t let them take my mother’s bones. It will be the end of the world.”
The cops and the paramedics just stared at each other, not knowing what to do. Suddenly George went quiet. One of the paramedics held his hand.
“He’s dead.” he said. “But who did this? There’s nothing here.”
The answer came when unexpectedly the suitcase contents flew up in the air. Higher and higher until they hit the ceiling. Then an explosion came and the bones were gone, leaving them and the walls stained. Nobody knew what to think, they couldn’t explain what had just happened.
Outside somebody shouted. First one voice, then another, then several. Panic spread. Alarms went off. It was as if suddenly the whole world was possessed by madness.
______
Enjoyed this story? Check my previous ones:
You Were Supposed To Be My Best Friend
Fluffy, the Spiteful Cat
Behold the Brave New World
Or my Werewolf Stories, which I post every Full Moon:
Officer Brooks' Creepy Blue Eyes
Midnight Shift at the Zoology Museum
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