Infamous Last Words | ONC 2021 Honourable Mention | ✔

Chapter 1: Unwanted visitors

"The Caravaggios were priceless and no one but a professional could've pulled it off," I defended myself. "I could steal Mona Lisa herself for you if you want me to."

With a bored look, Isla dropped my poor expensive vase on the floor, where it shattered into hundreds of white-and-blue shards. I clenched my teeth in anger. I'd liked that vase, and it had done nothing to provoke my boss.

Perhaps she wanted to demonstrate to me that she could shatter me just as easily, or she simply had an appetite for destruction. I'd always entertained the suspicion she descended from orcs.

"Fine," she said, "go ahead and steal the Mona Lisa for me, and we'll split the profits, yeah? I wonder how you're going to do it this time. I could give you money for proper equipment so you can blow it all on booze and women again. Or you could let yourself be deceived a second time and bring me a fake instead of the real thing. Or wait! Maybe I could anonymously bail you out of jail like I did before. That was fun the last time."

Maybe I'd fucked up more often than I thought. I'd professionally banished all of those failures from my mind, but Isla, who stood among the broken shards with her eyes blazing, remembered them all.

"It won't be like that anymore," I croaked, "I promise. I'll pay you back and I'll get back to work. I'll do it all right this time."

That promise didn't impress my boss as much as I hoped it would. She shot me a nasty glare. "I already gave you far too many chances. You cost me too much." Turning to Charlie, she snapped her fingers. "Up high, Charles."

My feet lost contact with the ground. Charlie lifted me up like I weighed nothing, holding me tight so I couldn't struggle my way out of his iron grip. I got the idea he enjoyed trying to crush my vital organs.

"Put me down," I squeaked, eyes widening. "You can't do this! You could damage me!"

"That's my intention," Isla informed me. She nodded at the stairs. "Let's bring him to his bedroom, Charlie. Perhaps Jack suddenly remembers he does have money lying around for me if we shove him out of the window."

I did not support the idea of throwing me out of the window, especially because Isla wouldn't be above doing it a second time if the first one didn't result in enough broken bones. Panic surged through me while I tried to break free from Charlie. In vain. He dragged me up the stairs as if it was the easiest thing in the world, Isla trailing after us at a leisurely pace. I cursed myself for having chosen to live remotely in the countryside; if I'd lived in a city, my screeching and pleading would have attracted neighbours who could save me from this doom.

"Isla, please. Can we discuss this whole thing again? Negotiate?"

"No."

"What if I make you coffee first?"

"No."

"Come on. Can't we settle this over a game of poker or dice?"

"No."

Trying to communicate with Isla Faulkner, I realised, was eerily similar to having a civil conversation with a brick wall. Neither of those things ever got you anywhere.

My pleading never ceased, not even when we reached my bedroom. Rambling seemed a good coping mechanism. I'd gone from trying to negotiate my fate to discussing the deliciousness of the strawberry cake I wanted to bribe my boss with in a matter of seconds. When Charlie opened the window, I was positively at my wit's end, close to murmuring actual prayers for safety.

Then the doorbell rang. A lovely sound. The sound of a saviour! Joy returned to me. A choir of angels sang in my mind, celebrating. Perhaps fate had finally decided to cut me some slack.

"Isla. Isla." A hopeful smile grew on my lips. "You can't throw me out of the window if you have an audience."

She raised one terrifying eyebrow. "I can't?"

"Of course you can't. Whoever's at the door will ask questions and call the police, and you'll want neither of those things to happen." I had to keep this up; Isla may have been a thug, but she wasn't stupid, and she knew the risks and complications presented here as well as I did. "You should let me answer the door. My visitor could get suspicious if I don't. I won't rat you out, I mean it."

I could see the gears in her head turn as she considered this. She must've realised I couldn't ask this person for help even if I wanted to; she'd have me dead for it sooner rather than later. All this would give me was time and a momentary reprieve, but that was all I'd need to plan my next move.

Isla narrowed her eyes at me, dark brown irises scrutinising me. "Fine. If they ask, we were just having coffee. But don't forget I'll be right behind you, and you're a dead man if I find out you're trying something funny. Don't forget how easily replaceable you are."

Charlie dropped me on my ass unceremoniously. I assured Isla I wouldn't forget and rushed downstairs, my unpleasant visitors on my heels. Any second I spent relatively free and not being thrown from a window was a good second to me. Even if it was just a Jehovah's Witness coming to preach at my door, I could've kissed them on the mouth right where they stood out of sheer gratitude.

But when I opened the door, I saw no Jehovah's Witness. In fact, it wasn't even a person at the door.

It was a light. A tiny blue light, floating in front of me. It shone bright and emanated the stench of rotten eggs. I pulled a disgusted face, watching the light in awe. It moved, no, morphed. The light grew, formed into a humanesque shape with limbs and a head and a face.

My expression of awe turned into one of horror when I studied that blue, ghastly, glowing face. This... whatever it was wore the face of a teenage girl. Or what had once been the face of a teenage girl. Her skin, covered in mud and mould, peeled off. Her hair was dirty, covered in twigs and algae, and hung past her shoulders. Her eyes… she didn't have eyes. Just empty sockets with gruesome scars around them, a black void gazing into my soul. Had someone scratched her eyes out?

No, not someone. Something.

Slowly, the nightmarish creature in front of me opened her mouth, showing off rotting brown teeth, and hissed a phrase at me with a hoarse, cracking voice.

"Beware of death on your doorstep."

It made me feel sick to my stomach. I tried to open my mouth to answer, but couldn't find any words. My body trembled as the woman, the creature, the corpse stared at me, a twisted, decaying grin on her face. My gaze travelled to her hands; dirty, deformed, resembling the claws of a beast rather than human hands.

I didn't know who this was, what it was, but it began to dawn on me what was happening. This was an omen. An omen of death. My death.

The creature giggled, which sounded more like gurgling, as if it drowned in imaginary water. And it faded, shrinking, blue light dimming. The empty sockets, the decomposing face, everything. It disappeared like a particularly vile rainbow, dissolving in thin air as if it had never even been there. Only the lingering stench of rotten eggs proved I hadn't been imagining things.

Beware of death on your doorstep. If I didn't misunderstand, and I reckoned I didn't, the nightmare woman had just foretold my death in front of me.

Monday mornings sucked big time.

~~~

Word count: 2089

Welcome to my ONC entry! I hope you've enjoyed this first chapter. If you did, feel free to vote and share feedback in the comments. Would love to hear from you! Oh, and if anyone reading this is participating in ONC as well, I'd love to check out your entries!

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