Belly of the Beast (COMPLETED)

1

My mother used to say to me, "Eliza, what people often think of as the end of the line for them often times ends up being the beginning."

I never really knew what that meant growing up.

I tried to think of all the different things she said about life, but she liked to babble on about things. Nowadays though, I miss her like crazy.

Four years ago, I lived in a house haunted by a demonic prescience. That demon pushed my mother to take her own life, and ever since then, I have devoted my life to finding out answers. Figuring out why.

I only recently discovered that she was not ever a suicidal person. She never had depression, never had anything like that wrong with her. But she still ... I know what I saw when I found her. I don't think she did it to herself, I think that the creature in the house did it to her.

We knew our house was haunted, we just didn't know to what extent.

Now, all these years later, I'm living with my boyfriend in an apartment in downtown Buffalo, New York. I guess my life has really just gotten better since that terrible night all those years ago.

I am standing in my kitchen, staring at the textbook on demons in front of me. My boyfriend, a kind guy with blond hair and blue eyes named David, stands off to the side and is making dinner.

I sit there, reading away while he works on chopping onions, and then he looks up at me.

"Eliza, what are you working on tonight?"

"I'm working on my thesis for Robertson's class next week," I say.

"I see. What does he teach again?"

I look up. "David, you know what he teaches."

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

He resumes chopping the onions. Later, after dinner, he takes me to bed with him. And as we lay there and get ready to begin making out, he scoops me into his arms.

I laugh and playfully smack his hand as he carries me over to the loveseat in the room, and then I hear this godawful snapping sound. Like bones snapping and crackling.

David lets me down on the bed, and then his body starts spasming. He convulses and shakes, his eyes roll into the back of his head. He shakes all over on the floor, and I scream, and run to his side.

But then his pale white skin turns pitch black. His legs bend the wrong way, like a dog's, and he simply transforms into a huge, black, dog-like thing.

He looks reminiscent of the black wolf in the Twilight movies. He turns his head towards me and snarls. I stagger backwards, having never seen such power before, and he opens his mouth.

Hundreds upon hundreds of long, sticky strings shoot from his gaping mouth. He smiles then, and the sticky strings stick to my arms, my legs, my torso. I scream, but he tosses his head back, and I shoot forward, my feet skidding against the carpet, and then I fall forward, into the creature's gaping mouth.

I scream and struggle and try to crawl backwards out of his mouth, but then the creature's tongue wraps around my legs. I scream as the hot, sticky tongue squeezes a little before I am dragged kicking and screaming down his throat.

And just like that, my life was over.