I honestly don't know what to put here. I just wanted to soothe me and my friend's sick need for the Milkman, Francis Mosses, in "That's Not My Neighbor."
Lurking in the shadows after you had turned off the lights. A dark smile stretched across thin lips, unnaturally presenting darkness inside their mouth. Small white dots replaced where their eyes should have been.
That night, after taking a bed, you tossed and turned.
You couldn't shake the apprehensive feeling of being watched.
Ups! Ten obraz nie jest zgodny z naszymi wytycznymi. Aby kontynuować, spróbuj go usunąć lub użyć innego.
When the beginning of your shift emerged, a sound buzzed as you stepped into your office. The floor creaked beneath the weight of your feet. In your dominant hand was your phone, and in the other, you clutched onto a clipboard, the thin blue paper had the list and ID photos of everyone that was on the entry list for the afternoon.
You hummed to yourself, setting the clipboard aside and sitting down at your desk. At any moment, a few of the residence members of the complex would be coming home after such a rainy day.
Just as you were about to continue setting everything up at your desk, even turning on the mini fan in the left corner of your desk. You felt warm hands grasp your inner thighs. Fingertips dipped in your soft flesh to part your legs open wide.
You jerked. Your knees jumped, making the desk thud. Gasped, whipping your head down as you pushed your chair back.
Eyes wide with horror, you see Francis.
His dark and nodding eyes leer up at you.
"Francis?!" You raised your voice, "What the fuck are you doing underneath my-" Before you could continue, his grip tightened and he pulled your forth once more. A snarl reverberated through him â€" there was no denying that it sounded inhuman.
"Your smell is intoxicating," his voice hungrily attested. "Even yesterday, when you foolishly let me in, I could smell you." As he spoke, you noted his teeth morphing into sharp triangles. His pupils shrank, wicked laughter bubbling up his throat and vibrating from his chest. Sadistic mirth blossomed across his features as the seed of realization began to sprout from the roots of your mind.
This was not Francis Mosses.
You took in a small intake of breath, staring down at the creature between your legs. Your fingers curled, tightening around the edge of the wooden desk above his head. Your knees and hands trembled, and sweat accumulated across the top of your brows.
"I was sure you'd have realized my error with the entry request paper, but you let me in anyway."
It was true. You were so impatient to end your shift and go home, that you neglected your duties as a doorman.
Your eyes quickly glanced toward the big red danger button behind the square glass box. It was just within arms reach. If you could just-
"Don't even think about it," the varmint hissed. Its cruel smile quickly veered into a deep scowl. Nostrils flared, its voice worsened with vexation and its sharp nails dug into your flesh, lightly breaking through and provoking small pearls of blood to well through the exterior. "You can call your little D.D.D friends, but nothing will thwart my kind from their attempts. No matter how many of us you kill, there will always be another. And then another. And another."
