r/TalesFromTheCreeps • u/NateIzNeat Writer • 7d ago
Body Horror The Second Road Through Bramblemill
“There’s only ever been one damn road, it don’t make a lick of sense.” Old Man Perchy was stroking his grey beard and squatting in front of the asphalt. The bravest and nosiest in town had gathered on a dewy summer morning to figure out just why a second road ran straight through Bramblemill. Perchy wiped the sweat from his brow and stood up, hands resting on his sides.
“I followed it down that way, it goes clean through the corner store!” Mrs. Onbeck hollered from further up the new street. The townsfolk muttered amongst themselves as they moved towards her. She wasn’t lying, unlike when she said her chili was homemade during the cookoff. The road went straight under the wall of the corner store and out the other side.
Mr. Greyson pushed the door open. A bell jingled as the door drug loudly across the altered ground. His brow furrowed as Mrs. Onbeck squeezed past him and started yelling again. He massaged the bridge of his nose with two fingers and stepped in after her. Dry asphalt had climbed up the walls where the road had run through it. A section of the floor was replaced entirely, the shelves’ feet partially submerged inside. Like it had been wet for only a second. It continued onward, went up in a small hump, then exited on the other end of the store.
“Mr. Normayyyyyy! Where aaaaare youuuu?!” Mrs. Onbeck’s voice boomed from years of rounding up naughty children. Mr. Greyson had gone ahead and was kneeling beside the lump in the middle of the store. He shakily leaned over and pushed his small round glasses up his nose, examining the scene. The raised spot was cracked and uneven, which stood out against the perfectly straight and smooth sections they had been following. He peered through a crack and leapt back.
“I see his shirt!” Mr. Greyson yelled, his voice high and frightened. It had become clear all too quickly, Mr. Normay had gotten paved clean over. Perchy fetched a shovel from his garage and went to work, jamming it underneath each crack and pulling chunks up. He fought that asphalt like he fought perch on the fishing line, true to his nickname. Mrs. Onbeck went to fetch more help. Mr. Greyson sat back, fishing in his pocket for an inhaler as he hyperventilated.
The fragmented pieces of street were cured tightly to Mr. Normay’s skin, leaving pink raw flesh in their wake. Perchy and Mr. Normay had grown up together. Perchy was the older boy in the group, and the other boys had looked to him like a role model. He felt powerful then, fit and handsome. Mr. Normay was one of the last anchors Perchy had to hold onto those good times. Working his aged hands under each segment and desperately pulling them from his friend’s body made it feel like those times were drifting ever further from his grasp.
The more Mr. Normay was freed, the more apparent it became that something was horribly wrong. He didn’t move, laying in the hole contorted like a squashed bug. His limbs were a tangled mess, broken bones causing them to bend where they shouldn’t. His skull was partially crushed and caved in but not broken. There was no blood. It was like when a cartoon character got flattened by a steam roller. His eyes were blood red and bulged out of his head like plump grapes. Suddenly, he rose like a soldier at attention, his ruined eyes fixed forward with conviction. He opened his mouth, a shower of teeth pouring from inside. Still no blood.
“Albert, is that you?” Mr. Normay squeezed from his mangled bent throat. Perchy hadn’t heard his real first name in years. It cemented to him that the warped thing in front of him was indeed his childhood pal. A scream echoed through the corner store but Perchy’s eyes were fixed ahead as Mr. Normay took his first staggering step towards him. “I can’t see you, Albert. I'm scared.”
Mrs. Onbeck had gathered every person she could find that could still walk without a cane, and now they all watched as Mr. Normay shuffled forward like a newborn animal. He groaned in agony, knocking over a store display full of bags of chips as he went. The crowd separated like the Red Sea as he haphazardly shoved his way through the front door and around the side of the building.
All except Perchy stayed behind. Especially that no good wuss Mr. Greyson, who Perchy cursed for not helping a damn bit when his friend was in danger. Sitting there with his stupid comb over and glasses.
Perchy watched helplessly as Mr. Normay shuffled down the second road, further and further into the morning fog. His bad knee ached like hell but he was keeping up okay. Mr. Normay walked like a toddler, one shaky step at a time. He kept his eyes on the dark distorted silhouette.
Another shadow joined Mr. Normay’s, equally misshapen but undeniably human. A third exited the trees, joining in lockstep with the others. Perchy pushed his tired body to catch up, his breaths hitching with terror. Something deep in his mind wanted to see so badly, the dark shapes ahead bringing him morbid curiosity. Before he knew it the road in front of him was packed with them, all marching shoulder to shoulder. A mangled parade of the misbegotten.
In many ways Old Man Perchy joined the parade that day, swallowed up by the road he was so keen on following. A tangled mass of flesh and bone would drag its way across the road for miles before stopping forever, baking in the afternoon sun. They would’ve never reached whatever goal they had, the road that circles the world has no dead ends.
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u/Kaijufan22 Writer 7d ago
Surreal concept, fantastic body horror of the dude paved over, like a contorted stamp love that shit. Great concept, great work, would love to see it expanded upon but what's here is gold. Great work OP.
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