Meg jumped back, driving her hip into her desk and jarring the lamp off its base to crash into the floor. The skirt on the bed flapped and moved like something was trying to punch through and then went completely still. She could hear soft sounds like chittering or clicking somewhere beneath it and clenched the scissors in her hand. Quietly swallowing, she backed up slowly towards the door.
Something began to fight with the skirt again and she recoiled, banging her sore shoulder into the shelf with her doobries and stifling a whimper. That was when inspiration hit and she started grabbing them off by the handfuls, dropping more than fifteen of them to the floor Everyone from Johnny Automatic, to Screech and Godkiller were soon standing in front of her and she leaned down so not to have to raise her voice. The scissors were still clenched in her fist and she could hear the fear rising in her voice.
"A-alright guys, Ready to Rumble. Team Deathmatch. All of you against whatever the fuck is under the bed. Okay?"
A cacophony of lines answered her as the miniature Contract Killers prepped their weapons and lined up. When nothing happened, she looked around and wondered if she could make it to the door. No, Shimmer would have called the fifteen feet of empty space between her and the door a killing field. She waited for a few more moments, but couldn't take it any longer. Reaching behind her, she pulled one of the notebooks off the desk and tossed it like a Frisbee and under the bed. The skirt billowed out again and this time, there was something rushed out behind it.
A dozen creatures-doobries maybe, of various sorts including Scavs, Manchines, pigs, and Halloween Jacks poured out, gnashing teeth, and starting chainaxes. The leader was a foot tall HJ and it spun its axe around its hand as it called the charge and pointed at her face. Its eyes were black pits and it had an evil grin that stretched from ear to ear.
"Ding-Dong, Time to Die Meg!"
They rushed forward, meeting the charge of her Contract Killers halfway across the floor with a clash. Meg bolted as soon as they hit, throwing the door open and pounding her feet into the floor. With fear pushing her harder, she ran down the polished hall like a streak, too afraid to look back but she could feel something coming after her. Her throat tightened, making breathing difficult and she stifled a scream.
The hall was miles longer than it ever had been and she felt like a victim in a cheap slasher film right before she buys the farm. Sure that one of those things was right on her heels and ready to strike, she risked a look back without stopping. Suddenly, something big and hard hit her in the abdomen, stopping her cold and doubling her up on the marble floor. She tried to scream, but the wind was knocked out of her and she could only gasp up at the chandelier. Meg had run right into the antique washstand that stood to the side of the hall, just like she did when she was a little girl running from the boogeyman.
The first thought that ran through Meg's mind went something like "that was stupid", but sarcasm wasn't helping her breathe. Rolling onto her back, she forced her shoulders up and tried to pull air in, knowing that if one of them got to her while she lay here, she was finished. She tried again and this time got a mouthful of air, her chest feeling like it had been caved in. Meg pushed her shoulders up again and rolled over, trying to ignore the pain, and gasped because at least she had air again.
Something wet touched her face and she blinked, not knowing what it was at first. She opened her eyes and saw that Archibald was in front of her, nosing her face and barking that little fake-dog "yip" that passed for his voice. He was insistent and kept it up, turning in circles and barking again and again. Meg finally realized he wasn't barking at her and strained her neck to look back down the hall. The door to her room was open and snow was streaming in like the window had been broken. Something dark shifted through the curtain of the falling powder and she pushed herself onto her side.
One of those things - the big Halloween Jack, was walking towards her with his trademark sneer but something wasn't quite right about his appearance. Blinking twice, she rolled onto her stomach and focused her eyes through the pain. With a gasp, she realized that it wasn't just seeing it upside down that had made it look different.
It had grown.
"Holy shit!" she said, scrambling backwards like a crab. The HJ was almost on her she tried to get to her feet and it picked up the pace. Archibald barked and danced around behind her, as scared as she was but able to make noise. That was the only thing he was actually good at, she thought.
The HJ was nearly four feet tall and had a big chainaxe to boot.
"How the hell-" she started, but her words turned into a scream as it snapped at her feet with its snarling axe. Jerking her legs back, the axe bit the floor and threw chips of marble across the hall. He laughed evilly, slashing at her again twice and tearing out the hem of her dress. She backpedaled wildly, kicking like a man going over a cliff on a bicycle but he managed to catch her left ankle. He answered her screams with an evil laugh and pulled her forward towards him. The sounds echoed through the halls and sent the dog running.
He was as strong as a man and Meg couldn't get her ankle free of his grasp, no matter how hard she tried. She kicked out with her other leg and caught him in the face, but he only seemed to get angry and slammed the chainaxe into the marble near her hip. She twisted aside and grabbed at its handgrip, but he growled and pulled it back to his shoulder and out of reach. Meg kicked him again and he lowered the chainaxe to the floor, blade up and heaved her forwards onto it.
It bit into her dress so close to her knee that she felt the cold wind off the blades and the vibration through the floor. Her arms flailed outwards looking for something to hold onto and she grabbed the side of the antique washstand wrenching herself backwards, but he pulled again, sliding her forward towards the whirling blades. Something nicked the inside of her knee and she yelped, latching on to the stand with both hands and pulling herself backwards. The creature roared and let go of the chainaxe to put its weight into it, but this time she was braced and the washstand came away from the wall. The chainaxe fell onto its side and shrieked against the marble as it rattled around and she managed to pull herself further back and away from it.
The HJ's face twisted into a mask of rage and it roared, hefting the axe above its head and gunning it as he hopped forward. As the blade came down, Meg bucked, trying desperately to pull herself under the washstand. Instead, it tipped onto two legs and went over, sending a cascade of pottery and glass tumbling down in slow motion. She watched it come down on both of them with a boom that shook the floor, sending slivers of the mirror and ceramic basin tinkling away like daggers on steel.
Blackness rose up, blotting out the sound, the light, and her consciousness.
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