Ugly Little Things

by Todd Keisling

  Mr. Boid’s usage of company resources to further his explorations into the electronic abyss by building and testing the gateway known as “zerzeph.net” should not be considered misconduct. By building the website in-house and utilizing the company network to test it, the Anointed One has been able to commune directly with the Old One known as Zer Zephanum, a name not spoken aloud by the tongue of man since the Fourth Reconciliation. Boid’s communion will bring about a great revelation for all of humanity once the site is ready for public consumption.

  In light of these arguments, I believe we were wrong to terminate his employment from the company, and as my final act as HR manager of [REDACTED], I recommend his position be reinstated immediately.

  Furthermore, I encourage you all to experience the glory that is Mr. Boid’s creation, as it was a vital part of my own personal enlightenment. Human words cannot accurately express the glory of the Old One—you must bask in the electrons and let Zer Zephanum commune with your mind. With enough time, you may transcend into that dark abyss beyond the Code and become one with His Majesty. Together, we will be one with divinity and usher forth a new era of existence for all mankind.

  As a gesture of my faith in those who lurk beyond the electronic threshold, I will offer this vessel of flesh and bone in accordance with the instructions outlined in the zerzeph.net FAQ:

  I want to transcend this existence. What do I do?

  Only believers of the One True Faith may truly transcend, but if your mind is pure and committed to communion with He Who Lurks Beyond the Code, then all you need do is make an offering of your most prized possession: your life. Refer to the Rituals and Incantations section for further details.

  After much careful preparation, I am ready to shed this skin and become one with Zer Zephanum, Lurker Beyond the Electronic Threshold, Devourer of Minds, and Defiler of Worlds. Praise be to our prophet, Charles Boid, for showing me the way. May the world follow in his footsteps.

  Warm regards,

  Alex Newmarth

  Manager, Human Resources

  [REDACTED]

  HOUSE OF NETTLE AND THORN

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jim Auster peered through the window at the old Victorian. “This doesn’t even look like a sorority house.”

  Nick parked the car along the curb and checked the GPS. “This is it, bro. 220 Stine Way. Just like Krystal said.”

  They were a few miles from campus, tucked away in folds of suburbia that Jim didn’t recognize, and while the house itself didn’t give him the creeps, the empty neighborhood certainly did. The streetlights illuminated a cul-de-sac devoid of human presence. The other houses sat lifeless and mute, their lights extinguished despite the early hour, with yards crowded by overgrowth and thick ropes of ivy clinging to the outer walls. Jim checked his watch and saw the time was barely eight o’clock. Frowning, he turned back to the sorority house.

  “What time did she say the party starts?”

  “Sunset,” Nick said, trying to downplay his excitement, but Jim knew better. He’d only lived with Nick for a couple of months, and he already knew how to read the guy. Not that there was much to read. In the little time they’d been together, Jim was privy to all sorts of stories about Nick’s sexual prowess, recalling his high school conquests and online girlfriends. The Internet is an untapped resource, Nick once told him. There are chicks everywhere looking to get laid! Social media just makes it even easier, bro!

  Some men, Jim decided, were meant to do great things, curing diseases or walking on celestial bodies; Nick Edgleman’s contribution to the great human identity would be equal to a crusted stain on a pair of boxer shorts with the reek of Axe body spray.

  Jim coiled his fingers on the door handle and sighed. “I was supposed to study with Megan tonight.”

  They climbed out of the car and stood on the sidewalk. Nick put his hand on Jim’s shoulder and gave him a squeeze. “Forget about Megan. It’s her loss. Just relax, bro. Be my wingman tonight and I’ll introduce you to some of the ladies in my history class. They put Megan to shame.”

  “Thanks,” Jim said, recalling his roommate’s complaints about the ‘lack of quality vagina’ in History 101. “You’re a real bro.”

  But Nick was too caught up in the moment to catch Jim’s sarcasm, walking the length of the moss-covered wall that separated the sorority grounds from the sidewalk. Jim followed his roommate to the large wrought-iron gate. He paused when he saw the symbol emblazoned between the black iron bars.

  “What sorority is this again?”

  Nick scratched his head, staring up at the darkened house. “I don’t remember. Sigma-something.”

  Jim traced his fingers over the symbol. “These don’t look Greek. They look like . . . flowers.”

  They were flowers—three of them, with their blossoms in the center supported by an odd jumble of vines. Entangled in the center of that sinewy mass was the figure of a man on all fours.

  A cool October breeze rustled the trees outside the sorority house, scraping limbs against the old Victorian’s gray siding and startling Jim away from the effigy on the gate. A slow chill crawled up Jim’s spine as he peered up at the home of the Sigma-something sorority.

  Nick’s phone chirped. He reached into his pocket and thumbed the screen.

  “It’s her,” he said, grinning.

  “What’d she say?”

  “‘Where r u? Party is dope!’”

  Jim looked up at the second-floor windows, listening for signs of life. All he heard was the crackle of leaves caught in a breeze, dragging like bodies across the empty suburban street. Sitting in the dorm and pining over the one that got away was starting to look more appealing.

  “Some party,” Jim mumbled. He looked back at Nick. “Listen, I’m starting to get a bad feeling about this. No one else knows we’re here, and this girl is from the Internet could be anybody.”

  Nick rolled his eyes. “Would you put your tampon back in? Just relax. I’ve done this before. Besides, would you turn down tits like that?” He held out his phone, revealing a photograph of a naked, pasty-pale woman from the neck down. Jim felt a twinge of jealousy stir in his groin.

  “No,” he said, his eyes lingering for a little too long on the photo. “No, I don’t think I would.”

  Smug, Nick lowered the phone and began to type out a reply. “That’s what I thought. There’s hope for you yet, bro.”

  Jim forced a smile, but deep inside, he was raging against a well-known fact of life: Hot girls always fell for the douchebags. The sting of Megan’s rejection was still fresh, and her choice to date one of Nick’s fraternity brothers was a shotgun blast to his pride. “I still want to be friends,” she’d said.

  Of course she just wanted to be friends. Jim was well acquainted with the dreaded ‘friend zone’. He’d spent a week wondering what he could have done differently, gorging himself on a diet of fried comfort food while wallowing shamelessly in self-pity. Oh, what it must be like to be on the other side of the fence, to actually be wanted by the opposite sex instead of merely acknowledged, tolerated, and passed over.

  Nick’s suggestion that he stop sulking and get out of the dorm for a while seemed like a good idea at the time. After seeing the bare breasts of Nick’s future conquest, Jim wondered why a girl like that would be cruising the university’s social network looking for guys, but then again, who was he to question good fortune?

  Maybe she saw something in Nick’s profile photo, his face painted blue and white to match the university’s colors as he flashed a cocky, sideways smile at the camera. Maybe it was the way he always popped up the collars on his shirts. Or maybe it was his listing of ‘Hot Bitches’ as an interest on his profile that led this Krystal person to send him a private message. Maybe she saw a hint of intellect in those narrowed eyes and arched eyebrows.

  And maybe she’s just a desperate nympho, Jim mused. Lucky son of a bitch.

  “All right, I texted her back and asked if we have the right address�
��”

  The porch light switched on, draping the yard in a warm glow as the front door creaked open.

  A figure appeared at the threshold. “Nick?”

  Nick pushed past to open the gate, crossed the yard, and climbed the porch steps. Jim followed cautiously, running his hands along the porch banister as he ascended. An old, dry vine had wrapped its way along the length of the railing, its leathery surface almost prickly to the touch.

  “Are you Krystal?”

  Jim rolled his eyes. Of course she was; her profile said as much. He paused behind his roommate, taking in the sights while they introduced themselves. She was taller than he expected, but evenly proportioned, her emerald green dress clinging to her body in all the right places. Her hair was pulled up in an assortment of curls, accented with a trio of purple flowers tucked behind her ear. Jim was immediately drawn to her cleavage—not because of the ample real estate but because of the glimmer of light off the flower-shaped amulet wedged in the canyon between her boobs.

  “I’m so happy you could make it!”

  Krystal stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Nick. She kissed his cheek and whispered something in his ear with a soft, coquettish giggle. Then her eyes met Jim’s, and her playful demeanor vanished.

  “Who’s this?”

  Grinning, Nick turned back and put his hand on Jim’s shoulder. “This is my buddy, Jim. His girlfriend just broke up with him, and he’s feeling a little lonely.” That was a lie, of course. He and Megan hadn’t actually gone that far in their relationship. In fact, ‘relationship’ was a loose term in this sense. Jim’s cheeks flushed. “Thought maybe we’d introduce him to some of your friends.”

  Nick winked at him, but Jim was too focused on their host to notice his roommate’s gesture. He stared at the caricature of a woman standing before them, not quite entranced by her beauty but by the façade of her beauty. Jim squinted, trying to determine if her face was real or just a mask.

  Krystal was gorgeous, borderline perfect in the eyes of a horny nineteen-year-old, but something about the way she was staring at him, and the way she recoiled when she saw him, made him uneasy. There was a flicker in her eyes, a glint of hatred he hadn’t accounted for, and within a moment of meeting this girl, Jim wanted nothing more than to turn on his heels and run away like a scared child.

  “So whaddya say, babe? Can my bro join the party?”

  Krystal flashed a liar’s smile, her lips extending ear to ear while giving Jim a once-over. The flicker in her eyes was there for just a moment longer before vanishing behind that smiling façade.

  “Of course,” she said. “I’m sure we can find someone to keep him company while we party.”

  “Listen, I don’t want to impose.” He could take a hint—he certainly wasn’t welcome—and come to think of it, he wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to be here anyway. Not now. He looked at Nick and shrugged. “Give me your keys. Just text me and I’ll come pick you up.”

  “No way, bro.” He looked back at Krystal, who was tangling her fingers in her amulet’s silver chain. “She said it’s no problem. Right, babe?”

  Krystal flashed that smile of hers before staring at Jim. The heat on his face intensified as a cold snake coiled around the middle of his spine. The phantom serpent tightened, hardening his guts into stone, and he wanted to protest again, but the words just weren’t there.

  “No,” Krystal said, “it’s no problem.” She gave him another once-over before taking Nick’s hand. “Come. Let’s party.”

  ***

  The foyer gave way to a large sitting room on the left replete with candelabras on the end tables, a staircase to their right, and a hallway straight ahead. Jim had never set foot in the sorority houses on campus, but he’d been in his share of fraternities, and they were all one safety inspection away from being condemned. He expected sororities to be tidy, but not this tidy. No, this house was immaculate and far more elegant than he’d expected—even for a sorority that operated off campus.

  A gold chandelier hung above the foyer. Glass sconces garnished with red roses lined the soft green walls, leading a path of light down a hallway beside the staircase like a trail of golden crumbs. A purple velvet curtain separated the foyer from the hallway, muffling the vibrant tones of classical music playing from elsewhere in the house, its notes flitting through the air like butterflies. The room was thick with a ripe, sweet smell that Jim couldn’t quite place.

  “Wow,” Nick said, craning his neck up to the chandelier. “Nice digs.”

  “Thank you,” Krystal said, “it’s been in our mother’s family since the last reconciliation, a reward for a bountiful harvest.”

  Last reconciliation, Jim wondered. Bountiful harvest? What the hell is she talking about? He let the couple wander a few steps away, edging close to the door. Krystal excused herself for a moment, promising to return after she told her sisters about her ‘boyfriend’. Once she disappeared behind the velvet curtain, Nick turned to him with his hand held up in the air, grinning like an idiot. Jim stared at him, frowning.

  “Oh come on, bro. Don’t leave me hanging.”

  “I don’t think I should be here,” Jim whispered. “Did you see the way she looked at me? And what’s this shit about reconciliations and harvests?”

  Nick reached out and pushed Jim back against the door. “I came to have a good time, and that’s what I’m gonna do. You go be a little whiny bitch for all I care, but don’t fuck this up for me. Maybe getting laid will do you some good, bro. That way you’ll stop being so uptight and get over that bitch who dumped you.”

  Jim clenched his teeth. He pushed Nick back and held out his hand. “Leave Megan out of this,” he growled. “And I’ll stay out of your business but only if you give me your keys.”

  “You’re not drinking?”

  “No. And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t either.”

  “What, you think I’m gonna get roofied?” Footsteps echoed down the hall. Nick dropped his keys in Jim’s hand and playfully slapped his cheek. “You can’t rape the willing, bro.”

  Krystal emerged from the hallway and held out a plastic cup. “Follow me. I’ll introduce you to my sisters.”

  Nick took the cup and followed, looking over his shoulder to mouth the word ‘sisters’ to Jim. The hallway stretched the entire length of the house, and the deeper they went, the more Jim felt like an outsider. Was it the way Krystal glared at him? Was it the house? A strangely familiar scent filled the air, and he was about to say something when he saw the grin on Nick’s face. Just stop it, he told himself. Try to relax and have a good time. It’s just a party.

  “There’s the kitchen,” Krystal said, pointing to their right. Jim stuck his head over the threshold, observing a pair of women standing around the island in front of the sink. A dark green liquid rippled within a punch bowl. The women—both brunettes, thin and pale and dressed in snug, emerald gowns—offered Nick the same rehearsed smile as Krystal before focusing on Jim’s presence.

  The first brunette ladled some of the green punch into a plastic cup and offered it to Jim. She didn’t smile.

  “Drink? It’s rich. Loosens the soil. Good for the roots.”

  “No thanks,” Jim said, shrinking back into the hall with Nick and Krystal. “Maybe later.”

  “—And here is the study.”

  Jim turned to the room opposite the kitchen and stuck his head in the doorway. Other guys—some of them barely college age from the awkward look of them—were paired off with Krystal’s sorority sisters, drinks in hand, laughing and chatting. Two sofas lined the opposite walls and were occupied with couples, their limbs entwined, heads pressed together and sucking face.

  “This looks like my kind of place!”

  Nick turned to Krystal and grinned as he lowered his hand to the small of her back. She ran her fingers through Nick’s hair and leaned forward to whisper something in his ear. When she was finished, she flicked her tongue lightly against his earlobe.

 
“Is this my date?”

  A new, kinder voice lilted from across the room as they entered the study. A thin girl with raven black hair seemingly floated across the room, her green dress whispering against the wooden floor. She wore a smirk on her face and a purple flower tucked in her hair, and within moments of taking her in, Jim forgot about Megan and studying.

  “Jim,” Krystal said, “this is Cora.”

  He stuck out his hand to shake, but she twisted her way into his arms before he could react. She caressed the back of his head, cradling him for a kiss. Her lips were wet and warm, and her tongue slipped into his mouth just an instant, almost so quick he later wondered if it had actually happened. Her skin smelled of honeysuckle and summertime, but the taste her tongue left in his mouth was almost metallic, gritty. He was struck with a brief sense of euphoria, his head suddenly ten pounds heavier.

  Cora pulled away from him and smiled. “Nice to meet ya, handsome.”

  “Uh, hi.” He realized his hand was wrapped around her waist, her hip pressed up against his stomach, and the sudden heat between his legs could only mean one thing. He dry-swallowed, waiting for the embarrassment to set in, but if Cora felt his erection, she made no sign. This mysterious girl had managed to fill his mind with her own form of light, and for a while, his thoughts of Megan were reduced to fading shadows, vanquished to forgotten corners.

  “Sweet.” Nick raised his hand again. “You gonna leave me hanging this time, bro?”

  Stunned, his mind lost among a series of dark waves lapping against his skull, Jim didn’t leave his roommate hanging this time.

  ***

  “Maybe you’ll have something in common,” Krystal remarked just before tugging on Nick’s arm. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

  Nick flashed a sideways smile at his roommate. “I’ll see you later, bro.”