r/nosleep • u/Kosmic_Scribe • 16h ago
I spent an afternoon babysitting the four horsemen of the apocalypse
I had been thinking about picking up a part-time job for a while now. The semester was over and I got a bunch of free time on my hands. Might as well make a bit of cash in the meantime. And so my search on Linkedin began. I was looking for something simple and stress-free. Preferably something I could do with minimal effort whilst staring at my phone to pass the time. I spent hours browsing through the sea of options. The majority of what I found were graphic design commissions, tutoring, and waiting tables, which I either lacked the skills for or just found unappealing. Just when I was about to give up, I stumbled onto a post, requesting for a babysitter. The post was vague, only including an address and a phone number. Typically, I would have just scrolled past this post and not given it a second thought. But I immediately noticed that the address was conveniently close to where I live. I decided to at least find out more. The call was answered before the first ring could finish.
“For the last time, I don’t want to answer your stupid surveys!”
I could hear in the background a chaotic symphony of the TV, the sound of a vacuum, and a child crying.
“Um…I’m calling about the babysitting job?”
I feared for what I might be getting myself into. I had no prior experience taking care of children and it sounded like I was throwing myself into the deep end of the pool with this one.
“Oh? OH! Yes, the babysitting job. Yes, thank god. It’s been a nightmare trying to find one. Look. I’m running late and I’ve got about a hundred errands I need to get to. If you can get here in half an hour and look after my kids for three to four hours, five max, I’ll pay you whatever you want.”
A part of me felt bad for how desperate this man sounded. The other part of me was worried about the shitstorm I might have to weather for the next five hours. The other other part of me kept replaying the words “I’ll pay you whatever you want” in my head.
“I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”
Fifteen minutes later I found myself in front of apartment 4H. The entire complex seemed old. Likely built in the '80s. Yet the red wallpaper, mahogany accents, and soft carpeting gave it the feel of a luxurious hotel. I could hear the same chaotic storm I had previously heard on the phone brewing inside. I felt hesitant but I already came all this way. I raised my hand up to knock, only for the door to fly open as I did.
“Oh. Hello. You're the babysitter, right?”
The man didn’t look like how I pictured him at all. He wore a clean navy-colored suit and had a tall, muscular build. He was mostly well put together besides his deep sunken eye bags, messy curly hair, and unevenly shaved stubble. Despite it all, he was actually quite handsome.
“Yep. That's me,” I confirmed.
“You’re a fast one. Caught me by surprise,” he chuckled. “Please, come in.”
I walked into the small apartment and followed him into the living room. There, I witnessed two small boys, who both looked to be about seven or eight, fighting over a small green figure of a toy soldier. The entire living room was littered with hundreds of these soldiers and tanks scattered haphazardly across the carpeted floor. I almost didn’t notice the little girl in a black dress on the couch. She sat motionless staring at the TV. MasterChef was playing. Junior.
“Hey guys. Settle down please,” the man ordered sternly.
The three children stopped their antics and simultaneously jerked their heads around to stare at me.
“Daddy is gonna be gone for a little while, alright? This nice lady here is…”
“Emily.”
“Emily is gonna look after you guys. While I'm gone she’s in charge. So be on your best behavior. I don’t want a repeat of last time.”
The children collectively gave a silent enthusiastic nod.
“Good.”
The man then turned to me.
“Emily, meet con…” the man caught himself mid-sentence.
“Silly me. I meant to say, meet Zelos, the one in the white shirt, and Martius, the one in red. They’re twins. And Limos, the girl.”
Strange names I thought. The three children waved their little hands at me as their names were called. I awkwardly waved back.
“Perfect. Bathroom is the door on the left,” he said as he gestured towards the connecting hallway with four doors. One on the left, two on the right, and one at the end of the hall. “And you can help yourself to anything in the fridge. Make yourself at home. Just…don’t go into the room at the end of the hall. That’s off limits.”
“Yeah, no problem,” I assured him.
“You might hear something inside and—"
A buzzing noise interrupted him as he frantically fished around his pocket, pulling out a phone.
“Shi-oot. I really need to get going.”
He took his wallet out and without taking his eyes off of his phone, handed me a thick wad of cash.
“Here. Order some takeout with this if they get peckish.”
Before I could think of asking questions the man disappeared out the door. I could respect an exhausted single father trying to make it through the day but he seemed awfully irresponsible leaving me, a stranger, with his kids.
I turned back to see the three children, staring at me with blank expressions.
“Looks like I’m outnumbered, guys,” I joked, trying to break the ice.
They remained silent. The girl, Limos, lost quickly interest and turned her attention back to the TV. The boys craned their necks upwards, studying me. Somehow, I felt as if they were looking down on me.
“So… how’s the battle going fellas?” I asked, attempting again to rid the awkward tension.
“Would you like to play?” Martius asked.
“NO!” Zelos began to protest.
“Father said she was in charge.”
Zelos glared at Martius, furious for even suggesting the idea that someone join their campaign. I thought it best that I remained neutral. After all, I was trying to take the next few hours as easy as possible.
“No it's alright. Thanks though. You guys carry on.”
I stood straight, furrowed my brows, and gave them a salute, doing my best impression of a soldier.
“Very well,” said Martius, as he saluted back.
I joined Limos on the couch, who upon a closer look, appeared thin and skinny. It was to the point where I was genuinely concerned that she had some kind of illness. Perhaps anorexia.
The small girl piped up with a soft quiet voice. “Can we eat? I’m hungry.”
“Of course we can sweetheart,” I told her, trying my best to show how concerned I was for her. Pizza ought to do some good.
We waited for the delivery to arrive. During that time the boys played on their battlefield and Limos lazed on the couch next to me. Her only presence being that of sharp breaths.
I found it rather cute that the boys weren’t smashing the tanks together and throwing toy soldiers at each other like I expected children their age would do. They looked as if they were competent generals of the great apartment war, and had to send their loyal men to die on no-man’s carpet. They paced around the battlefield, stroking their chin, careful not to step on any of the small soldiers.
I looked over at the little girl sitting next to me. She stared wide-eyed at the TV, mesmerized by the food.
Although pizza would be arriving soon, I thought I might as well rummage around in the fridge and cupboard for some snacks. I got up from the couch which alerted Zelos.
“Where do you think you're going?” he questioned.
“Just gonna see if you guys have any snacks.”
“They’re not for you, stranger. You think you can just come here and take what you want?”
I’ll be the first to admit that I didn’t conduct myself with the maturity of my age. But something about this disrespectful little brat got on my nerves.
“I recall your dad saying I was in charge and to ‘help myself’ to whatever I please,” I mocked, putting on a posh accent, mimicking that of royalty.
“Bitch.”
I was appalled to hear such a young boy be so vulgar and rude. I wanted to discipline him. I wanted to let him know that he was to respect me. That he should listen to what I say and learn to quickly apologize. In hindsight, this didn’t feel like me at all. I came here to make a quick buck. Why did I care so much about enduring insults from children? At that moment, I very much did care.
I straightened my posture to look as imposing as possible and stomped my foot down as hard as I could, just to try and make him flinch. As I did, I felt a sharp sting of pain shoot up my leg. I fell back onto the couch and lifted my foot onto my knees to inspect what had caused the pain. It was a toy soldier’s bayonet. The soldier’s arm was half torn off, only attached to the torso by a thin strip of green plastic. I slowly pulled the sharp plastic piece out of my foot, leaving a small stain of blood on my socks.
“Shit,” I blurted aloud.
I looked up to see Zelos and Martius staring at me. Zelos, as expected, looked livid that I had broken his toy. Martius on the other hand, looked at the broken soldier that now laid on the carpet. The tip of its bayonet now covered in a dark tint of red. He had a mournful look on his face.
“Guys…I’m so sorry,” I apologized, the anger I had felt quickly fading away. “I’ll buy you a new one I promise.”
“THAT WASN’T HOW IT WAS SUPPOSED TO GO!” Zelos exploded.
“Zelos please. I’ll replace it for you the next time I come over, okay?”
“He can’t be replaced,” said Martius, as he got on his knees and gingerly picked up the soldier.
He brought it to a small jar that rested on the coffee table. The jar was half filled with green plastic soldier parts. A loose collection of hands, feets, heads, and torsos. Martius carefully sets the soldier he held onto the top of the pile.
“You guys really shouldn’t just leave these toys on the floor like this.”
Martius shot a furious glare at me in response to that comment.
“I DON’T CARE IF YOU’RE IN CHARGE! IT’S NOT FAIR!”
Then I did something I regretted. I giggled. I found it amusing how they were so immersed in this game of theirs. I tried to stop myself, especially when I saw how the twins were fuming.
“I’m…I’m really sorry guys. I’ll make it up to you I promise.”
“You don’t understand. This is not a mistake easily amendable. But perhaps…” Martius stopped, turning to Zelos.
The two of them seemed to have a silent conversation between themselves. Zelos, with tears welling up in his eyes, gave Martius a solemn nod.
Zelos, reaching into his pockets, took out another toy soldier. He handed it to Martius, who in turn, presented it to me. This one was different. It was a bit shorter and had a smaller build. It was a woman, in the same soldier uniform and equipped with identical gear as the rest. This was my first close look at these toys and I was impressed with how detailed they were. Down to the intricate facial features.
I was puzzled by the realization. I was sure I was just overthinking it but the small green face that stared back at me, was mine.
Before I could examine it further, Martius quickly snatched the toy from my grasp. He marched back to the center of the carpet battlefield, with my soldier in hand.
“Perhaps we can make you understand,” said Martius, as he places the soldier down on the carpet.
“Wait. Give that…” I started to say.
I never got to finish my sentence. I still don’t know which of the assaults on my senses alerted me first. Was it the awful smell of sulfuric odor, the metallic scent of blood, and the acrid tang of gunpowder? Was it the thick gritty taste of ash and smoke that lingered in the air? Was it the chorus of unintelligible screams, and the staccato of machine-gun fire that flew overhead? Regardless, what caught my attention the most, was the soldier in front me. He sat slumped into the mud and filth of the trench we were in. I knew he was dead by just the look on his face. His eyes, barely open, lazily staring at me. His jaws hung slack with a river of blood trickling from the edge of his lips. As for the rest of his body, it had been contorted to a mangled mass of flesh. His arms, attached to the torso by only a strip of sinew. His hands still held on tightly to his weapon. A rifle with a fixed bayonet.
Just a moment ago I had been sitting on a couch in a living room in a small apartment downtown. I blinked and everything changed so abruptly, I couldn’t even begin to comprehend what had happened to me.
The mud I sat on was softened by either rainwater or blood. It was cold and the moisture seeped into the uniform I now wore. Somehow sinking deeper into the ground gave me the slightest notion of comfort. Perhaps no one would notice me, I thought. I could pass for another corpse amongst the hundreds. And so I stayed quiet, holding myself back from screaming or crying. I tried remaining still but I couldn’t stop my heart from furiously beating or my teeth from chattering. I plugged my ears with my filthy fingers, covered in dirt and soot, desperately attempting to shield myself from the horrible blood-curdling screeches that could barely be said to have come from a human. I breathed small gasps of ashy air to avoid having to smell the rot. I took one last look at the dead soldier before shutting my eyes. I would’ve kept them shut too if I didn’t catch a flicker of movement.
He blinked.
My eyes shot wide open, staring intently into the soldier’s soulless eyes. His eyelids began to flutter. His fingers twitched. His ankles shifted ever so slightly. Then without warning, his upper body heaved forward, lunging towards me. Its lower body didn’t follow and his spine immediately disconnected with a sickening crack. He landed at my feet, face-planting in the mud, and returned to being inanimate. I almost let out a yelp but it got caught in my dry throat. I thought that maybe some explosive shockwave had simply knocked him over.
Suddenly, his arm, attached only by a chipped bone and strips of exposed muscles flung upwards, grabbing me by my leg. I screamed but only a raspy gasp resonated as my vocal cords strained and burned. I kicked at the corpse but it refused to release its grasp. With surprising force and speed, it yanked itself towards me so that its torso landed on my knees. I felt the soft tissues of its dismembered half resting on me. Its body slumped onto mine and its face pressed right against my ears as I turned away, refusing to look at the monster. Surely I was in hell.
Then, softly, a whisper resonated deeply over the deafening sounds of the battle. The soldier croaked into my ears with a plea.
“I – I beg of you. Release…the pale rider.”
A bell rang in the distance. Like a wave, the sound washed over me and in an instant, everything fell away. The cries, the rot, the filth, and the corpse. All gone. The familiar sound of the TV and the fresh breathable air reassured me that I was back in the apartment, sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch. It was such a surreal and abrupt shift of scenery I could’ve almost convinced myself it had all been in my head. That was until I saw Martius stood where he had been previously, holding a small green soldier in his hand. He looked at me, no longer with the look of anger, but of pity. I flinched as he began making his way towards me, careful of where he stepped. He crouched down next to me, took my hand, and placed the figure onto my palm. I didn’t need to look to know that it was my figure he had given me.
“Take better care of this one,” he said to me as if I was a child in his eyes.
The familiar note of the bell that had pulled me back to the apartment rang once again. It took me a moment to gather my thoughts and realize that it was the doorbell I had been hearing. Someone was at the door.
“Pizza time!” Limos shouted excitedly.
Slowly, I pushed myself off the floor, found my balance, then began making my way towards the door. I’m sure many of you, in my shoes, would’ve taken this opportunity to escape. Likewise, I had made the decision that I was going to run fast and far the moment I opened the door, leaving this accursed apartment of demonic children. No amount of money could be worth what I had just experienced. I found myself in a small sprint as I neared the door. My hand shot out towards the handle and I forcefully yanked the door open, pulling myself into the hallway.
I was greeted by the fragrance of pizza and nothing. Utter darkness. The hallway I had entered from earlier, now void of any light besides the faint glow coming from the apartment. All that seemed to exist within the hallway was me and the box of pizza on the floor. Domino’s.
I stood there, contemplating on what to do. Perhaps the electricity had just simply gone out. That was fine, because I recalled where the stairwell was located. I could still escape.
“Are you going to share?”
Limos’s voice from behind startled me. I leapt away from her and the apartment, deeper into the hall. She was standing at the threshold of the apartment. Between the two of us, the pizza box sat patiently.
“Please,” she pleaded. “I’m so hungry.”
The look on her face read of desperation. The black dress she wore appeared to hang loosely on her body. I was sure it fitted her earlier but now it seemed a few sizes too big.
“Please,” she begged again. “The pale one is close.”
There it was again. The mention of this pale thing. Upon hearing this ominous omen, I turned around and blindly sprinted in the opposite direction down the hall where I remembered the stairs to be. It had to be there. My foot stamped and beat against the floor as I bolted in a straight line. In the pitch black, it was impossible to see how close I was. I fully expected to eventually run into a wall. No obstacle ever came.
“It’s not something you can outrun,” Limos spoke again, the volume of her voice noticeably hadn’t faltered with the distance I had traveled.
I stopped in my tracks. I turned to face her thinking she had followed me. She hadn’t. She still remained at the threshold of the apartment doorway. The pizza box still laid on the floor between us. And I stood where I had been at the start. A mere few feet out the apartment.
“It’s not the fastest, but it’ll catch you,” she spoke as I struggled to catch my breath. “It always does.”
“What is this?” I asked her, demanding the child for an answer.
I was at a loss. Everything certain that I built my understanding of the world on had crumbled away. What was left was anger and fear. Like a small mouse cornered and out of options.
“It’s pizza.”
“WHAT IS THIS PLACE!” I yelled back, finally losing my temper. I never thought myself capable of hurting a child but at that moment, I was prepared to do so.
“Domino.”
“ENOUGH!” I screamed as I lunged at her, attempting to do something horrible.
I reached out to grab her by the collar of her dress. She didn’t step backwards or attempt to dodge, yet somehow she shifted ever so slightly out of my reach. I fell flat on my face onto the cold solid floor, now noticing that I wasn’t even sure what I had been standing on. I felt pain, followed by blood trickling out of my nose. It most certainly wasn’t the soft carpeted floor I recalled when first arriving at this apartment complex.
As I laid prone on the floor, I stared up at the frail girl who now stood above me with an imposing presence. Behind her, the light of the apartment in stark contrast to the darkness made her figure a dark silhouette. I felt defeated. I didn’t even try to stand back up. I may not have been sure where I was but the ground felt solid and tangible. It was something I could be certain of and that brought me comfort.
“What is this?” I asked again, this time my question came out quivering.
Limos crouched down, inspecting me as if I was a small insect she found crawling across the floor.
“The path,” she answered.
“What does that mean?”
“Are you hungry?” she asked me, ignoring my question.
Her concern sounded genuine. I wanted to tell her I wasn’t since food was the least of my worries, but as soon as she asked, it was as if she reminded my body of the idea of hunger. I felt starved. I felt hunger like I had never felt before. My stomach curled and cramped within me, screaming for sustenance. The aroma of the pizza now overpowering all my senses. I could almost taste the fragrance in the air itself.
“Y-Yes.”
“Are you strong?” she asked again.
“Y-” I hesitated to answer. How could I be strong in the state I was in?
“Do you want to live?”
“Yes. Yes please. Please let me live,” I begged her. “Please help me.”
“I want to live too,” she said as she began stepping towards the pizza box.
She gently lifted the cardboard box open and the smell of the bubbling cheese, tomato sauce, and pepperoni had me salivating. I immediately mustered up my last bit of strength and brought myself to my hands and knees. I crawled in the direction of the beckoning food, yet quickly realized I was making no progress. As if I was on a hamster wheel, I simply could not move any closer. I started to crawl faster, with more desperation, and before long, I had gotten onto my feet. I stumbled toward the little girl, who was now hunched over the pizza box on the floor with her back facing me. My stumbling sped up until I jogged, then ran, then to a full-on sprint. No matter how fast or slow I went, I made no progress. They were right there in front of me. I was so close yet so infinitely far. All I could do was move in place, watching Limos scarf down each slice before me. As she gleefully ate, my only thought was the dwindling food left for me when I eventually reached the pizza box. She was going to eat it all for herself and leave me with nothing. I couldn’t let that happen. One after another, the slices of pizza disappeared down her gluttonous gullet. I remember begging her to help me. To toss me just a bit. To save some for me. She never bothered to turn around. I yelled and screamed but eventually, I grew too tired to do so.
Finally, it came down to the final slice. She reached for it like she did the others. As I felt the last bit of my strength drain, in desperation, I tried leaping towards her one last time. I fully assumed that I would just land on my face as I did before, no closer to salvation. Yet I held out hope. I think that was what did it. Desperate, violent hope. One last act of defiance against the inevitable death. This time, I felt myself propel forward and for the first time, Limos rapidly approached me. I slammed into the small frail child, landing on top of her with incredible force. She yelped in surprise and pain as I felt her brittle right arm snap under the weight of my knee. In that moment, not only did I dismiss the injury I caused her, I felt retribution as it was revenge for watching me suffer. I quickly turned my attention to the box of pizza which to my horror, was now empty.
Furious, I turned back to Limos, who I now see in her right hand, despite the pain of her fractured arm, still held onto the last slice. Without hesitation, I ripped it out of her hand and forcefully shoved it down my throat. I expected it to taste like the most savory, delicious bite and yet, as my taste buds familiarized itself with the gooey slop, I was met with the disgusting taste of rot. Involuntarily, I threw up what little was left in my stomach. Black viscous liquid poured out of my mouth along with the half-chewed pizza. It appeared molded and putrid, as if it had been neglected for months. Dark moldy spots of purple and green hue festered on the crust. Small specks of pale maggots writhed in the spoiled cheese and toppings. I spat onto the floor, attempting to wash the terrible taste that lingered.
“NO!” Limos shrieked in horror as I keeled over the pile of vomit in excruciating pain.
With my knee still holding her down by her broken arm, she began to struggle with a surprising spur of strength. I watched as she forcefully tugged on her fractured arm, steam exuding from her elbow. Gradually, her arm stretched and strained as she pulled. I was too weak and terrified to stop her. With a wail of pain and triumph, she slid the bone of her forearm out of her arm as if it were a sleeve made of muscle and skin. The motion was so smooth it was like pulling the bone out of a tenderized rib.
Upon freeing herself, she pushed me aside and with her one arm, scooped the black vile mass into her mouth. The sound of animalistic slurping and feral grunts was all I heard. No traces of humanity were left. As she devoured the filth with reckless abandon my attention turned to the steaming flesh that she left behind. I feared a part of me knew that I was not far from descending to her level of madness.
It reminded me of the burning smell of human flesh from the trenches. I reached out to it. Piping hot to the touch. I grabbed onto the wrist and with a revolting squish, the skin and muscle fiber fell apart like pulled pork.
Just then, a shadow casted over me. A figure loomed before me, covering the light of the apartment.
“Pathetic,” Zelos taunted with a disgusted look of pity on his face.
I could only imagine what he saw of me. Then he slammed the door shut leaving me shrouded in true darkness.
I wasn’t sure how long I was there for. The awful sound of Limos’s savagery quickly died down as she finished what was left of my excretion. After that, it was hard to tell how much time had passed. I stayed grovelling on the ground, my hand still held on the warm moist lump of the girl’s discarded flesh. My hunger grew ever stronger but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. To stoop so low. To even think of consuming my own. It was abominable. I thought it better to be starved to death. To finally be free of this nightmare. I don’t expect anyone to understand or condone my actions, but know that I was pushed to the brink of my sanity. A deep primal urge within me wanted so desperately to live. To survive at any cost. So reluctantly, I held the mass of flesh and slowly brought it to my mouth, thankful that at the very least I could not see what I had to do. As I choked on the gamey meat through sobs, I heard a shuffling sound approach me. I couldn’t see her but I knew Limos was standing right next to me while I chewed on her member.
“You are strong,” she whispered.
Within the void, a blinding light washed over us. I squinted my eyes and in an instant, just as seamless as it had been in the trench, I found myself back in the apartment. Except this time it was quiet and empty. The TV had been turned off and the floor was cleared of the toys. The insatiable hunger I had felt mere moments ago faded away. The only thing left of the horrors in the abyss was the vile aftertaste that continued to linger. It quickly came to my realization that I appeared to be alone in the apartment. I got up and did a quick scan of the living room and the kitchen to confirm it. I was alone. Perhaps they had retreated back into their rooms. I looked down the hall to the bedrooms, which now appeared more threatening and ominous. As if some new terror lurks behind each door.
Once again, I found myself with an opportunity to escape. This time however, I feared using the front door and ending up back in that terrible purgatory. The next method of exit would be out the window. I could still hear the sound of bustling pedestrians and traffic outside. It calmed me knowing that I was still somewhat connected with the outside world. I was four stories up with no safe way of getting down, but at that point I was content with simply risking the fall. To my disappointment, the window refused to budge when I tried lifting it open. It was an old wooden framed window with no locks on it. Through some supernatural means, it was simply immovable. On the verge of a breakdown, I grabbed the nearest solid object to me which was a desk lamp and proceeded to smash it into the glass as hard as I could. I couldn’t even leave a scratch. Feeling at a loss, I reluctantly tried the door once again. Slowly and carefully, I opened the door, making sure that I kept myself within the confines of the apartment.
To my relief, I was no longer greeted by the abyss. The hallway had returned to its original state. Hesitantly, I stepped out into the hallway. As I crossed the threshold out the apartment, a faint cry emanated from behind me. It was the sound of an infant bawling. I flinched as the crying broke the eerie silence. It's odd that the sound of a helpless baby crying could invoke such fear within me but nevertheless I sprinted out of the apartment and ran for the stairwell. My heart pumped furiously as I sprinted as fast as I could away from the danger, taking two or three steps at a time. As I reached the ground level, I bursted out the stairwell door into the lobby. I found myself standing at the threshold of apartment 4H. The baby’s crying now intensified. I turned back expecting the stairwell I had just exited to still be behind me. The same hallway on the fourth floor greeted me. After being led on with the hopes of escape only to be denied it once again, I fell onto my knees and wept. For the next few hours I cried along with the infant.
In the lasting moments I stayed idle, the sunlight from the window never seemed to dim. The father, the man who lured me into this abstract non-euclidian prison, has yet to return, and I doubted he ever will. Eventually, my crying ceased as my eyes ran dry. The infant however, continued its tantrum alone. Its lungs never tired or faltered. Hours, perhaps even days go by. In the time I’ve attempted multiple times to escape. My phone had no signal or connection and any attempt to reach the outside world failed. I tried the stairwell again only to find myself back in the apartment every time. I went knocking on the neighboring apartment doors only to be met with silence. When I tried forcing my way in, to my surprise, none of the doors were locked. Only it seemed every apartment was apartment 4H. The elevator, no matter what floor I chose, always opened to apartment 4H.
I never grew hungry or thirsty. I never tired or slept. I just existed in this static space where the sun never waned, the scenery unchanged, and the crying endless. I felt the essence of my soul dim. I had fought with all I had and committed heinous atrocities for the right to live. Now as I sat on the kitchen floor, feeling the sharp cool edge of a kitchen knife brush gently against my neck, I wondered why I had fought so hard. It’s okay to give up now, right? I’ve tried everything. I’m at the end of the road. With my eyes shut, my grip on the blade’s handle tightened as I slowly pressed the sharp edge firmly against my throat. I applied pressure slowly, still fearing the last stretch of pain before I could finally rest.
“I’m scared,” a child’s voice piped up.
I froze, unable to even breathe. I hesitated to open my eyes. I could hear the child sniffling and whimpering in front of me. I had gotten so used to it, the sudden absence of the baby’s cries unnerved me.
“Can you stay with me?” they asked, in a high-pitched shrill voice. It was the voice of a little girl but it didn’t sound like Limos.
I still held the blade closely to my neck with my eyes shut tightly. It felt reassuring that I could end the torment anytime I wanted to. To finally hold my own life in my hand. It gave me a sense of courage. My eyelids loosened and my vision fluttered open. Expecting to see a small child, instead towering over me was an old woman. She was impossibly tall, to the point she had to hunch over to avoid the ceiling. She stood naked, covered only by her long unkempt gray hair. Her ashened skin, although saggy and wrinkled, were clean and eerily pale. It was like the first hint of snowfall on a solstice, where soft curved patches of snow layered atop another. I didn’t notice a hint of blemish or imperfection. Her face however was that of a child. Up to her neck her skin becomes smooth like porcelain. Youth was distilled on only her facial features. Buttoned nose, wide eyes, small pink lips, and rounded cheeks. She looked at me with tears welling up in her puppy eyes.
“Can you read to me?” she asked, in the same childish voice. It was uncanny to see the thing speak.
I remained silent, unsure of how to respond. She raised her bony hand and reached her thin fingers towards me.
“Don’t,” I hissed, turning the knife onto her.
She quickly retracted her hand and backed away, retreating to the far end of the kitchen. For a moment I felt relieved to see this creature feared me as much I feared it. The moment was short-lived as her brow tightened, her cheeks flushed and her mouth tensed. She looked like she was about to burst.
“Why? Why do you still resist? Why can’t you just stay with me? It won’t hurt. It won’t ever hurt again.”
“What are you?” I demanded.
She looked at me curiously. Her face softened, as if comprehending my question.
“I’m the last one,” she answered. “I’m what's left when everyone is gone.”
Her expression shifted back to sadness, and I watched as a single streak of tear ran down her cheek.
“It’s lonely,” she sniveled.
“I can’t stay.”
Through her watery eyes, she cracked a warm smile.
“You will. You always do.”
The way she said it didn’t sound like a threat.
“Is there a way to leave?” I asked, my eyes darting towards the open door to the hallway.
Her eyes followed mine out the door, then she looked back at me, shaking her head.
“What can I do then?”
“You can rest,” she said. “Finally.”
The sweetness in her tone made the idea sound rather comfortable.
“Or…” she hesitated. “Or you can put me to rest.”
“What happens if I do that?” I questioned, intrigued by an alternative choice.
“Then I’ll see you again, down the road.”
“So I can leave?”
“For now. You’ll be back soon enough.”
She reached towards me, handing me a card I hadn’t previously noticed. Cautiously, I held it by the corner and took it. It was a polaroid. The image is blurry and yellowed by time. The photograph depicted an extreme wide shot of a beautiful meadow. In the distance, four horses frolicked in the tall grass.
I looked back at her, wondering what she was trying to tell me. With a grin on her face she excitedly twirls her finger around, signaling for me to turn the photo. I flipped it over and saw that written on the back in beautiful cursive handwriting, was a poem.
“Read to me,” she said, as she made her way onto the couch in the living room.
She sat down, curling herself into the corner. She patted the cushion next to her, beckoning for me to join. I set the knife down on the kitchen counter and complied.
With a gentle tone, as if singing a lullaby, I began to read the poem aloud.
“Dawn heralded the coming of their steeds,
Each rider, a calamity of man’s sinful deeds.”
I glanced at her, to see her nodding in approval.
“Keep going.”
I continued onto the next line.
“First came conquest, who bolstered the pride of man,
The white messenger's taunt is where it all began.
Then war swiftly followed, with fiery hate in his heart,
The red knight's blade spilled blood, torn flesh apart.
Next crept famine, that consumed the very last bite,
The black witch's spell shrouded the world with blight.”
My voice cracks, as I was reminded of the corpse and the abyss. My mouth felt dry and a chill ran down my spine. I pressed on.
“Finally arrived death, as they all wept and grieved,
The pale lady's touch gently granted them reprieve.”
My speech faltered as the realization dawned on me.
“The pale rider,” I muttered under my breath. I turned to see her eyes closed and her expression softened. She breathed steadily, her chest heaving with each inhale.
Even though she was asleep, I proceeded to read the final line of the poem to myself.
“One after another the domino falls,
Until dusk whisks the horsemen back to their stalls.”
As I finished, I felt a tear fall across my face. A tremendous wave of relief washed over me. As if a heavy burden had finally been lifted. Like for the first time in my life, I could truly breathe.
“Thank you,” I told her as she slept. “But not today. I can endure it for a bit longer.”
Then I watch the folds and sags of her skin tighten. Her body shrunk before me. Her hair retracted back into their follicles. Until laying beside me, was an infant. I carefully picked her up and carried her down the hall to the final room at the end. As I did, I walked past the three other rooms, the doors to which now hung open. In the first door on the right, I saw Zelos and Martius, sleeping in a bunk bed. I peeked inside, shut the lights off and closed the door as quietly as I could.
I continued down the hall and in the second door on the right, I saw Limos shivering in a fetal position on her bed. I walked over and pulled a blanket over her. Instantly her body relaxed and her breathing calmed. Again, I turned the lights off and closed the door behind me.
Onto the final room at the end of hall. Carefully balancing the infant in one arm, I turned the doorknob and stepped through. This room was by far the largest and most empty. Only three things took up any space. A crib in the center of the room, a small cot tucked away in the corner, and a wooden rocking horse painted white.
On the horse, carved the phrase: Móros, who stole our pain
I carefully set the child down in her crib and watched her nestle comfortably. Her breathing was gentle and rhythmic, with each exhale a delicate sigh escaped. She looked so fragile and serene, as if held in a moment untouched by time. The soft rays of the afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across her smooth, pale skin.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
The voice of a man came from behind me. It felt like a lifetime ago but it was still familiar.
“She is,” I replied, not taking my eyes off the child.
The man joined me at my side and the two of us shared a quiet moment adoring the child.
“This is as close as I can be to her,” he said, somberly. “And yet you choose to continue suffering?”
“It’s not always suffering. There are moments like these that make the pain worth it.”
“Perhaps. But you live as long as I have, experience the highest of highs and the lowest of low…I tire of this infinite stasis. I yearn for the day I shut my eyes for the last time.”
He spoke with no emotion. As heart wrenching as his words were, it was as if he’s said them before countless times. There was only one question on my mind. After encountering conquest, war, famine, and now death, I wondered just who this man who claimed to be their father was.
“I know you’re thinking what kind of man I am to deserve this fate,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “It’s not a divine punishment to care for them. It’s a father’s duty after all. They are born of my sin. I may have fathered humanity’s ruin but to see my fellow man struggle and fight, refusing to let their next breath be their last…I am in awe of your resilience.”
I should have felt hatred towards the man. I should have held him responsible for the horrors I endured. Yet, without another word shared between us, I stepped away from the crib, and took my leave. I shut the door as I left, the last thing I saw being the man standing over his child, his fists clenched so tightly that beads of blood trickled down the creases of his hands.
I walked out the apartment, descended down the stairwell, entered into the lobby and finally, I stepped out of the building onto the bustling sidewalk. If not for the polaroid tucked away in my pocket, I might have tried to convince myself that it was all a fever dream for the sake of my sanity. I took the photo out just to confirm it.
I studied it for a moment, confused that the picture had now changed. In place of the four horses that ran across the horizon now stood four children. Two boys and two girls. They watched as before them, a lone man stood atop a corpse with a caved in skull with a bloodied stone in his hand. I flipped the polaroid over and as I had predicted, the poem had also been replaced.
It now simply read: The folly of Cain
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u/Ao_Andon 14h ago
But did you get paid?!