I woke up to loud wind and meowing. The strands of sunlight dancing through my blinds told me I needed to get up 2 hours ago, so I closed my missed alarms and forced myself out of bed, downing an Adderall and checking my phone. Tabby had called multiple times — she and some friends had been screwing around (read as smoking cigarettes) in a field when they found some weird shit. She’d been flipping out for the last half hour because one of her friends had an allergic reaction to something. Seeing as she was my only friend, I fed the cat, got dressed, and started heading to the designated underaged smoking spot. The field was as dead and depressing as ever, and I walked around calling out until I found them.
“‘Sup dumbass?” Her reply was a tearful glare accentuated with runny mascara and dead silence. I looked around. “Why didn’t you just call 911?” I asked. She folded her arms and kicked me with one of those goth platform shoes. “Do you really think I would’ve called you first if this was some mundane peanut allergy bullshit?” She rebutted. That was fair — I would’ve chalked any paranormal shit up to substances and/or shitty pranks. Looking around, I finally noticed the thing that was about to ruin my week. An antique table under a tree. Normally when shit like this happens, you get a tingly little spidey sense telling you something’s up (at least, that’s what happens in the spooky stories I read. Useless assholes.) but this didn’t give me much of… anything. People dump shit in fields all the time.
Approaching it, I did notice a few things that were very out of place. The table was set. It even had fancy doilies and some fine china in the middle. There were four chairs around it — it seemed like two were missing. The top of the table sat upside down, sitting on four legs that reminded me of totem poles. I recognized some of the totems as being inscribed with old Norse art, but each leg had four unique ones. It was like an amalgamation of a bunch of ancient art styles. Cool. I turned to Tabby and asked where her friends were. I had been expecting them to jump out and scare me at any time, but she’s a shitty actor and the tears were starting to give me pause. “They were sitting at this weird-ass table”, she said, sniffling. “We were smoking and Jay picked up a fork or some shit. His eyes rolled back into his head and we assumed he was screwing around. Robin picked up some of the china and the same thing happened. I started to get kinda scared, called them assholes, and walked up closer to the road because my phone’s reception was tweaking out. Came back and they were gone along with the chairs they were sitting in. I’ve been sitting here yelling for them to come out for the past 15 minutes — Robin had the keys and her car’s locked. I’m gonna fucking kill them.” She sniffled a bit more.
I felt my paranoia kicking in. Got that teary-eyed feeling you get when something shakes you up. Not sad teary-eyed, the kind that happens after you yawn. “Let’s get away from this creepy table first”, I said. “Did you check if her car’s still here?” Tabby nodded. “It’s here.” I walked around a bit, peering into the bushes and other potential hiding spots when Tabby screamed. I ran back to find both missing chairs had surreptitiously returned, completing the set surrounding the table. Tabby was sitting now, eyes completely white. Fork in hand. I started running towards her but stopped when the smell hit me. Steamed pork buns. Szechuan noodles. I shuddered in ecstasy as I realized I hadn’t eaten yet that day. My vision started to blur as I mechanically took a seat next to her and grabbed some silverware. Darkness. I came to, finding myself in a dining room of sorts (at least they kept the dinner table aesthetic. I’m not getting eaten by some inconsistent, wishy-washy assholes.)
A skinny old woman with pallid, gray skin sat at the head of the table. Next to her sat a dog — I recognized it as the stray black labrador that roamed the field from time to time. Its legs were bent at awkward angles, but it was panting with its tongue out like a normal dog. Shaking, I surveyed my surroundings. Jay’s body lay in a heap next to a conspicuous door with an ornate handle. His body seemed… deflated. Hollow. Small movements in odd places under his clothes could just barely be perceived. Panic time. I looked across the table at Robin, hoping she would clue me in on what kind of gruesome death awaited us, but she was clearly in shock. Tabby was hyperventilating. I locked eyes with the geriatric old woman.
“Woeful young things, to stumble upon my table today. Dear, wretched urchins.” Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard. Not that it was high and scratchy — it sounded like a normal southern voice. It just left you with a sick feeling. Like brushing your hand against a texture you really, really can’t stand. As she held my gaze and spoke, Tabby seemed to snap out of it. She vaulted over the table and ran for the big door. The old woman’s placid face was replaced with an enraged snarl as one of her arms extended with a disgusting, meaty pop. She caught Tabby by the shoulder and retracted the repugnant arm until they were face to face. I watched her caress my only friend’s eyes with her seemingly neverending tongue before popping them out like fucking legos. All I could hear was screaming and the roar of adrenaline in my head. Once the screaming had stopped and she was done munching eyeballs like they were Reese’s, she vomited a rain of black worms onto Tabby. Sound update: muffled wriggling and me shitting myself.
As Tabby was eaten from the inside out, the old woman looked back at me, losing the snarl as quickly as it had come. “Well-behaved thing.” She left her chair with a spryness that betrayed her apparent age. Put her gray, greasy hands with gnarled claws for fingernails on Robin’s shoulders. “I am Ms. Worm. You’re free to go, for now. She will stay here with me. You have until next week to return. If you don’t come back, she’ll never leave, and I’ll never show you the right door.” I cautiously got up, watching her the whole time. Robin’s eyes pleaded with me. “Don’t leave me -“ her mouth was covered by a gray hand, eyes wide. Fuck this, I came to help Tabby. I barely know these other people. When I got to the door and made sure I wasn’t about to get Alien’d with worms, I ripped it open and got ready to sprint. I could grieve and process all this once I was away.
The sight that greeted me was a barren hellscape. Tables stacked high with plates seemed to be everywhere. Broken down houses and decaying structures were the only other things that could be seen from the gravity-defying bird’s-eye view through the door. Ms. Worm manifested behind me without a sound. “I’ve already had my fill there”, she whispered in my ear. “I’ll show you the right door if you cooperate.” She gestured to the chair across from Robin. As I took it, she sat down next to Robin and whispered in her ear. Robin’s face was quickly turning pale. Ms. Worm then got up and walked out.
For what seemed like a week, we talked, shivered, and even got a few hours of sleep here and there. The room we were in was simple enough — white wallpaper, peeling in places, a shaggy red carpet, two corpses that didn’t smell at all for some reason, and a gaudy chandelier. Robin was kind of cold to me at first since I walked up to that door without a second glance. Understandable. I assured her I would’ve come back with more people (complete lie) and things got a little less tense.
It’s been much longer now. Robin’s once-dark skin is getting grayer by the day, she already looks like a corpse. I swear I saw her gurgling and staring at me the other night. The old woman led her out a while back and she’s been very, very different since she came back. All that remains of Jay and Tabby are clothes and bones. Robin’s mumbling about setting tables. Oh yeah, she also put worms in my ears. I feel them wriggling wriggling wriggling wriggling wriggling wriggling. Don’t ever sit at a table again I hate this place I hate this place I hate this place I hate this place I hate this place I hate this place I hate this place