Nightmare Under Pink Skies
I scrolled through channels, bored, trying to find something to watch. As I passed over the weather channel to the true crime channel to watch old forensic crime show re-runs, I noticed a red bulletin. I switched back quickly.
The red bulletin read in all caps: "ODD WEATHER PHENOMENON ACROSS EAST COAST."
"There have been many reports of a storm system moving across the eastern coast." The weatherman in his tacky suit indicated a large mass of clouds on his radar. "There have been no reports of heavy rain or wind. The remarkable thing about this weather system is the clouds are all pink in color." The excitement in his voice was obvious. "We'll continue to report developments—"
"No lightning and thunder. Boring," I thought to myself as I changed the channel back to my true crime shows. Suddenly, I heard whimpering from the kitchen and pawing at the back door.
"What is it, boy?" I called out to Bingo, my Staffordshire terrier. He only whined in response. I stood up and went to the kitchen. Bingo was standing in front of the back door, running around in little circles.
"What is it? You wanna go outside, boy?" I asked. He barked in response. "Okay, okay." I opened the back door and he bounded outside to stand in the yard and look up at the sky. The pink clouds the news had been talking about were rolling overhead.
"Huh. Those are much cooler looking than they sounded on the news," I thought to myself. Bingo didn't seem to need to use the bathroom. He just wanted to stare at the weird clouds. I left the door open a crack for him to come back in when he was ready and headed back to watch my shows. I had a fence so I wasn't worried about him running off.
As I got back into the living room, I noticed my lounge chair seemed to have moved a couple of inches to the left. I must have gotten up harder than I thought. I wiggled the chair back into place, before sitting back down.
Much to my disappointment, the episode of my true crime show that was on was one I had seen many times before, about a case that I'd seen on multiple other true crime shows. Annoyed, I turned the TV off and headed upstairs to my room to see if I could find something more entertaining on my computer.
I brought up my go-to site for videos and streaming TV shows. Unsurprisingly, most of the videos in the trending section were about the pink clouds. As I was scrolling through my recommendations to see if any of the creators I subscribed to had made anything new, I heard a "thunk" from downstairs in the living room.
Bingo must have come in and knocked something over. With a sigh, I got up to see what he'd broken. Nothing in the living room seemed out of place. I poked my head into the kitchen to see if he'd knocked something over in there. The back door was still mostly closed how I'd left it, indicating he was still outside.
Scratching my head as I stepped out of the kitchen, I noticed the lounge chair seemed to have moved a few inches to the left again. I was sure I'd moved that back already. I wiggled it back into place a second time and headed back upstairs. At about half way up the stairs, my computer chair came into view. It was sitting at the end of the hall.
"How did that get there?" I asked aloud. Had I wheeled myself to the door before getting up? I didn't recall doing that. I walked the rest of the way up the stairs and down the hall, scratching the top of my head, trying to think.
I heard another "thunk" noise. This one sounded more hollow. I looked back into the living room. The chair was still in place, at least from what I could see upstairs. I walked all the way down. This time, one of my end tables had moved about six inches forward.
What was going on? Had someone gotten into my house? I wasn't sure, but if they had, they weren't going to catch me off guard. I ducked into the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the drawer. The kitchen was for sure clear, at least right now; I could see everything inside of it.
I looked into the backyard. Bingo was still outside, staring up at the clouds as they rolled overhead. The system they were part of had to be massive. I had thought they were cool before, but now they were making me a touch uneasy. They gave me an odd sense of foreboding. The fact that they were that color at three in the afternoon and there wasn't even a smell of rain in the air could not be normal.
I closed the door. If there was someone in the house, there was no reason to risk Bingo. I went into the living room and began to carefully look around, checking behind the couch and the end tables. There was very little room back there, but it didn't mean someone couldn't hide there. No one.
I heard a slight rolling squealing noise, like the kind a rolling chair's wheels make. Upstairs. I moved up the stairs as quietly as I could, knife in hand. As if to confirm my suspicions, my computer chair was a couple of feet further along the hall, as if someone had pushed it.
I tiptoed quietly around the chair and pushed open my bathroom door. My bathroom was small, containing only a toilet, a sink, and a shower-tub combination. Holding the knife in front of me, I threw open the shower curtain. There was no one there. That meant they had to be hiding in my room.
My heart was throbbing in my throat as I walked the few feet to my bedroom door. I stepped into my room. I checked under the bed first. It seemed cliché, but there weren't many other places to hide. No one. I checked my closet next. It was also empty. There was only one place left. I turned my attention to my wardrobe. Whoever it was must have slipped inside.
I approached very carefully, knife at the ready. As I reached for the handle to the wardrobe door, a loud scream pierced the air, making me jump backward. It took me a few moments to register that the scream had come from outside, not my wardrobe.
I ran over to my window to see the most peculiar sight. My neighbor from across the street, Mrs. Jensen, was outside, beating what appeared to be an ottoman with a broom. The scream had come from her, something I only realized when she let out another high-pitched scream. We had considered her slowly losing it for years. She must have finally gone off the deep end. The poor woman.
I watched, shaking my head. My attention was only broken from the peculiar sight by the sound of a low growling in my room.
"Bingo must have figured out someone is in the house," I thought to myself. "Wait... I closed the back door."
The growling was coming from my wardrobe. Slowly, I turned from the window just in time to see my wardrobe bounce several times, turning to face me. Its front door now sported two eyes and a large mouth with many teeth.
I stumbled backward, my heart pounding in my chest as I watched the wardrobe's transformation. The growling grew louder, reverberating through the room.
"This can't be real. I must be dreaming," I thought, but the sight of the monstrous wardrobe left no doubt. As I was processing the demented eyes and twisted fangs of what was once my wardrobe, another low growl joined it. Tearing my eyes away from the wardrobe, I could see my bed had also grown a set of eyes and sharp teeth.
I opened my mouth to scream, but no noise came out as I backed slowly toward the door, the knife feeling as useless as a toothpick. The wardrobe lurched forward, its wooden frame creaking and groaning with each movement. It was alive, and it was coming for me.
Flailing, I threw the knife at the wardrobe, and it stuck in the wood. The creature howled in pain, and green blood spurted from it. I turned, scrambling and running as fast as I could out to the hall.
My computer chair was still out there. It spun around in place and started to roll toward me. The back of it was now nothing but eyes and rows of sharp teeth, salivating as it stared at me. I moved around it, just barely dodging its snapping jaws as I practically leaped down the stairs, landing in a crumpled heap.
As I recovered and stood back up, I found to my horror, my living room offered no salvation. My eyes locked with the eyes of my once comfortable armchair, its once plush cushioning contorted into a sick grin.
The end table that had moved had joined it in whatever form of life this was. The lamp that once stood upon it lay in pieces as it dragged itself across the floor. My other end table and couch seemed to be in the process of transforming. Their eyes and mouths were only half-formed. I bolted into the kitchen as the chair lurched forward, its metallic springs screeching.
My dining room chairs were all yipping like little hounds. I ran past them, hearing my computer chair tumbling down the stairs and the loud pounding of my wardrobe trying to escape my bedroom. I threw open the back door and ran outside, slamming it shut behind me.
"Bingo!" I shouted. My loyal dog was still in the yard, barking furiously at the strange pink clouds overhead. He turned to face me at my call, his pink tongue hanging from his mouth.
"We have to get out of here, boy." He just stared at me. "Go for a ride in the car?" Upon hearing his favorite words, he galloped excitedly toward the gate. My hands, sweating from panic, struggled to open it, but I eventually managed to slide the crude lock from its place. I could hear the growls from my furniture inside as I made my way to my car in the front yard.
I saw across the street that Mrs. Jensen had failed to defend herself from her ottoman. Her trusty broom lay in pieces beside the pile of bones that was once her. There was no sign of her ottoman anywhere, and there was little doubt in my mind it was off trying to stalk someone else. If only I'd realized what was happening sooner. Maybe I could have afforded some kind of help.
I felt my pockets for my car keys, though I knew I didn't have them. They were hanging on the key ring inside. My hand brushed over my phone, and I considered calling 911 for a moment, but based on the craziness happening just in my neighborhood, who knew what was happening all over town. I could already hear screams coming from every corner of the street.
Luckily, I had left the car doors unlocked. I opened the back door and allowed Bingo to hop in, confident it would afford him some safety while I figured out the best way to retrieve my keys. Taking a deep breath, I ran across the street to grab a salvageable piece from Mrs. Jensen's broom. It was a laughable weapon, but it would have to do.
I moved quickly to my front door, broom handle in hand, and turned the knob. I pushed it open, hoping I could just duck my head in and grab my keys. I could see the various pieces of furniture in my living room scrambling around. The chair was trying to get into the kitchen, and the couch was barely moving across the floor, too heavy to move easily.
One of the end tables saw me reaching in to grab the keys and came at the door, its jaws snapping. I just barely pulled my hand back with the keys as the end table reached the door, its jaws wide open. Without a second thought, I rammed the broken piece of the broom into its mouth, and it made a choking sound.
"No time to close the door," I thought to myself, rushing to my car as the end table gagged. I heard screeching and thumping noises in the house as the other furniture noticed their new escape route. As I looped around to the driver’s side door, I found Mrs. Jensen's ottoman waiting for me.
Bloody drool dripped from its mouth, and it seemed to be much further along in the monsterification process than my furniture. Deep down, I wondered if that was because it had fed on human flesh. I stood frozen until Bingo barked in the car, snapping me out of my trance. I lifted my leg quickly, planting my foot firmly between the ottoman's eyes and knocking it onto its back.
Its legs kicked and flailed like a deranged turtle as I got into my car. I pushed Bingo away as my car’s engine roared to life. The radio was playing a special news bulletin.
"Breaking news: Our station has been receiving multiple reports from all over town that people's furniture is turning into monsters. For reasons not yet known, furniture that is mostly electronic, such as televisions and refrigerators, are not affected. Police are responding as best they can, and people are encouraged to exit their homes as quickly and safely as possible."
I turned the radio off, rolling my eyes.
"Little late for that," I said out loud to the radio as I put my car in reverse and started to back out of the driveway. As I saw the ottoman still struggling on its back, I continued to reverse straight until my rear end was almost in Mrs. Jensen's grass.
"Hold on, boy," I said to Bingo, patting his head, before hitting the gas as hard as I could to build up speed. I shot up my driveway, hitting the brakes at the last second, knocking Bingo off his feet and just barely avoiding smashing into my garage. I felt a bump and heard an ungodly wail and a sound like wet paint as I ran over the ottoman. Greenish blood spurted everywhere.
Satisfied with my work, I put the car back into reverse and backed out of the driveway as the other one of my end tables hopped out of the house. Bingo got comfortable in the backseat as I drove down the street. A nervous sweat trickled down my face as I passed multiple pieces of living furniture just on my way out of the neighborhood as the pink clouds continued to move overhead.
The furniture's reaction to my moving car was always the same—they snapped their teeth and attempted to pursue, but couldn't move fast enough. There were splatters of green and red blood everywhere, remnants of where people had made their last stands.
Bingo fell asleep as I drove to the outskirts of town, seeking refuge from the nightmare. Eventually, as the sun set, I reached an area where the sky returned to its usual color, devoid of the eerie pink clouds—or any clouds for that matter.
I pulled over to the side of the road and finally allowed myself to exhale as I looked up at the dusk sky. I could feel a tightness in my throat as I turned on the radio. Nothing but jittery static. I'd driven so far out of town I wasn't getting my usual stations.
I turned the knob until I came across a station that was clear. It sounded like I got the middle of an emergency broadcast.
"-of the pink clouds, all of the furniture that had previously been turned into monsters has returned to normal. I repeat with the passing of the pink clouds, all of the furniture that had previously been turned into monsters has returned to normal.
Emergency services are estimating the sum total of the damages. Top experts from multiple nations are gathering together to conduct research into this unprecedented event. The clouds were last seen blowing out onto the Atlantic ocean. We will continue to bring-"
I switched off the radio and breathed a sigh of relief, reassured that the worst was over for now. Exhausted, I locked the car doors and climbed into the backseat, where Bingo lay sleeping. In the quiet of the night air, our gentle snores were the only sounds.
Thanks for making it his far! If you enjoyed this check out some of my other stories! More stories to come. Follow and stay tuned.
Credit to www.craiyon.com for the images.
This story was originally written for Belle's "Setting That Eats" challenge. I decided it didn't follow the rules strictly enough to enter but it was too fun of an idea to not to do.
You should still check out the challenge link below and read some of the other entries:
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