𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 » Steve Harrington

₀₈ seaweed monster, little swan

     "Three Musketeers," Dustin mumbled in correction, thoroughly disappointed. Steve gave him a look that became the catalyst for silence. Dominic sat back in it, watching a murky blur out his window until Dustin spoke up again. "Wait—Dom, what's your sister's car doing out here?"

     "What?"

     Dom pulsed forward to hover between the two front seats. He squinted. Tucked over onto the side of the road sat was a tiny green car. Somewhere between honeydew and mint chip ice cream green, Mel's car green. Dom had yet to see anyone else in Hawkins deranged enough to choose that color. The fuck?

     As his eyes stalled along the treeline, Dominic saw nothing but the news headlines magnified from Mel's leftover microfiche.

     "Stop the car," He said, tongue numb. Dread had already enveloped him. He couldn't explain it, could only feel it. Steve offered him an unusual look that was flicked back through the rearview mirror. "I said stop the car!"

     "Alright, alright. Jesus Christ," muttered Steve. He eased on the breaks, pulling up in front of Mel's car. "Stay here." His door folded open and a pair of Nikes touched down on the grass. Dominic and Dustin watched as Steve seemed to weigh his options, before winding around back.

     They heard the trunk pop and hopped up on their knees to peer out the back window to where Steve armed himself with a flashlight and his formidably modified baseball bat. He stalked slowly toward the edge of the woods all while muttering profanities. Starlight caught along the nails of his bat, swept down the sharp angle of his nose. He armored up with a breath and stepped into the forest.

     As soon as Steve and his swoopy hair and fitted jeans fell away, Dom and Dustin shared a look. A spark of silent thought. Then, they hopped out of the car after him.

･ﾟﾟ･༶･ﾟﾟ･

YEAH, THIS WASN'T IDEAL.

     Enough of Mel's sanity had orbited back for her to conclude that much. Something was able to click in place and send the proper chemical signals down into her legs. Mel scuffled back from the buzzing of flies around the corpse. In her fingertips, a blooming sensation pricked. Like plasma energy trickling from the gloss of her eyes, down her spine, over the nerves of her fingers, and into the flashlight handle.

     Each crunch of leaf skeletons beneath her sneakers became another whisper. Leave this place, they told her, delicate and haunting. Leave now and don't look back.

     She shouldn't have come here, not at night. Mel hadn't been thinking. She'd gotten so caught up in her own insanity. Oh, God, this wasn't closure.

    "Hello? Is anyone out there?" Mel could've sworn a voice carried through the air, from closer to the road. Barely intelligible, yes, but there was familiarity in it. "Mel?" She had jolted toward the source, flashlight beam following closely behind. She was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by all the distress signals going off and overwhelmed by how badly her reality had to have shattered to be standing where she was. Still, it didn't matter. None of the inner turmoil mattered because Mel was stuck staring out at nothing, doing nothing.

     That was when something else—the shuffle of a bush, snap of a twig—brought her attention back to where it had been before. Only this time, bathed in her light was something of a canine-reptilian hybrid.

     Mel froze. Her very soul seemed to hover up, seep out of her shoulders. With it went her ability to form thoughts.

     The thing stared back at her from all fours. It was horrendous. Slick-skinned and twisted like a creature of war. Something from medieval fantasy. Mel tried to look into its face; it wasn't there. All she could find staring back at her was a lump of disturbed flesh, clefted by five concave lines. From eyes she couldn't see, it seemed to examine her, nimble on elongated limbs. Its arms with their lean muscle would have looked human if they weren't wicking off slime and shining like roasted seaweed under the moon.