Friday, October 18, 2019

Catfish, a very short horror story

I met her on Instagram. Today, I’m going to meet her in person.
At first, she’d seemed like another one of those vain profiles: selfies and makeup and poses.
But she messaged me and, strangely, we seemed to have a lot in common--it quickly became evident that @kellilepoissonfantastique was a front for a real human being.
And she only lives two hours away.
So I’m driving there now, thinking back on the months—nearly a year, actually—of our growing relationship. We’ve both found ourselves lonely in this shallow world. I’ve never pointed out how superficial her self-glorying account is. She messaged me first—because she doesn’t trust anyone approaching her for her content.
My friend teases me that she’s not real—that she’s catfishing me. But I’ll show him. When I take a selfie with her in just a few minutes.
“Take the next left onto Somerset Street,” google maps tells me.
She sent me her location yesterday. Exact location. I’ve known where she lives for a long time already. But we might be serious after today. After we meet in person. We’ve already told each other so much about each other. I’m bringing her a lily-scented candle. They're her favorite.
They remind her of her childhood: the lilies beside the pond with the blue boat. She left when her parents died. She moved to the outskirts of Bamberg, where she works as a dental receptionist, but hates it. She’d rather be swimming.
And I’m here. I open my car door and take a deep breath.
The house is white and clean. The lawn is impeccable. I climb out of my car and straighten my shirt. Clearing my throat, I cross the lawn and ring the doorbell. My phone dings and its her.
Just come on through the house. I’m out back by the pool.
Of course. I open the door and step in. I wrinkle my nose…it’s…what? Sort of dank. But everything is spotless. Shining white couch and tan carpet. The lights are dim. I tiptoe through the living room—I can glimpse the backyard through the kitchen’s glass door.
There are cattails in a vase on the kitchen table and flies buzzing by one of the cabinets. I set my candle on the table and open the door.
The pool is filthy. No sign of the buxom blonde. Am I at the right house? Wait…
I flip through her pictures on my phone. Didn’t she say this one was in her living room? Blue…like water. I’m either in the wrong house, or…
My foot slips in mud as I turn back to the kitchen. And I spot something I hadn’t on my way through…just beside the door, where I wouldn’t see it as I entered the kitchen, hangs a massive leather overcoat. And huge rubber boots.
The water splashes behind me. I whirl around to see the muddy water sloshing back and forth.
“Hello?” I call, but quietly, my voice lost and dry. “Kelli?”
Something smacks me in the side of the head and I fall, slamming into the glass door. Dazed, I slide down into the redolent mud and struggle to roll over.
“It’s Keldron,” says a heavy, watery voice. “And you must be the delicious Eric.”
I sit up on my elbows. And blink through stinging tears. My cheek is numb and it’s spreading. I’ve been drugged!
I feel my face and the tingling seems to transfer to my trembling hands. I look up.
“You’re a catfish,” I slur.
Keldron just grins and opens his gigantic lips to swallow me whole.

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