I didn’t want to dog-sit on a Friday night, but it was my sister’s birthday and she wanted to go out. She told me she’d be back by 10 PM. The Great Dane’s name was Hank. I was sitting on my sister’s bed reading different r/nosleep stories. After each post, I called bull every time.
They’re all just myths created to entertain those who can’t sleep. It even said at the top: 2,342 awake right now. At least I wasn’t the only one taking advantage of this community. My sister was supposed to be home four hours ago, and I needed a distraction to avoid getting angrier.
I continued to scroll, my foot dangling off the bed and tap, tap, tap, tapping the linoleum flooring. My eyes glided over the screen, reading out each entry in my head. But then I stopped. There was a knock at my door. It was 2 AM.
“Finally!” I said aloud.
I carefully stood up, and it were as though I could hear the creak of my own bones as I did so. The dog, Hank, hadn’t barked. I saw him in the living room. A great big brown beast, bred to hunt. But he wasn’t barking.
The knock sounded again and jolted me out of my thoughts. I know this sounds strange, but I didn’t recognize the knock. I listened to the rapping of meager knuckles against the cold wooden door four times. It was not my sister. My suspicion was confirmed when an envelope slid through the little gold latch on the door. The silhouette of the figure outside did not leave.
Inside the envelope was a birthday card coated in thick pink glitter addressed to my sister. I cursed as bits of the glitter fluttered to the ground and stuck to my black socks. I tried four times to shake the particles from my feet, but to no avail. Anyway, I opened the card. Etched into the glitter were the words, “Happy Birthday, Mitch. I hope you wake up before the flies.”
I blinked once, hoping the brief blackness would refresh my vision, but I had read it correctly. There was no stamp on the envelope. It had been hand delivered by the monster who had written but did not sign. It was 2 AM. The dog didn’t bark. I tossed it in the garbage and decided to fill Hank’s water bowl. As I did this, I heard the alarm on my phone coming from my sister’s bedroom.
I assumed I had set it in my drunken state the night before. I walked back into the bedroom and felt around the silky red comforter for my phone. The alarm had repeated four times before I managed to fish it out of the blanket. My phone vibrated with the cheerful chiming, and the screen read : TIME TO WAKE UP.
I scoffed at my own irresponsibility and brushed it off, lowering myself into my sister’s bed again and turning off the lamp. I opened Reddit again, the light from my phone screen burning my eyes. I had received a message. As my thumb danced over the 2D speech bubble, I heard the faintest drip, drip, drip, drip of water falling from the faucet in the kitchen. I assumed I had forgotten to turn the nozzle all the way off when I gave Hank some water and shrugged it off. I turned back to my phone and clicked on the notification. I clicked on the speech bubble, intrigued by the uncommon sight. It was by a user who’s nickname was a jumble of characters I didn’t recognize, but that wasn’t the most chilling moment. My stomach churned as I read the message. “The flies are awake, now.”
The dripping in the kitchen seemed to get louder and louder as I felt my head grow heavy and my fingers clenched within my fists. It had to be my sister. I responded immediately, my cold fingers flying from letter to letter until the message was sent. Just come inside, Mitch. I’m tired and I don’t feel like playing games with you.
She responded within seconds. “The door is locked, please come let me in!”
I sat there for a moment. I even considered leaving her there all night. She should have been home hours ago. I sat up from her bed once again, fumbling for the lamp switch. When it clicked on, I reached for Mitch’s purse at the foot of her nightstand, digging for her house keys and heading for the door.
Hank still lay on the couch, staring out the window in mourning.
“Don’t worry, buddy. Mommy’s home.” I told him, digging through her mass of keys so as to find the right one for the front door. After the last key didn’t fit, I froze. My sister wouldn’t leave the house, she couldn’t leave the house, without her house or car keys. She could’ve called an Uber, yes, but she would need her phone, which still sat in her purse at the foot of her nightstand.
I stood on the tips of my toes, feeling around the top of the doorframe for the key to the stupid door with growing confusion. I felt the tips of my fingers graze the cold metal object that would finally grant my poor sister passage into her own home. It took four tries to push the rusted key into the hole, turning it with even greater potency. It creaked open slowly, narrowly avoiding my glitter-coated feet.
The stench encased me, causing my eyes to water. Though this made it difficult to see what was in front of me, I now knew what was behind me. The front door. I had just opened the door to the laundry room.
Mitch hung there from the ceiling. The scarf she used must have been taken right out of the washing machine, as wrinkled clothes and mold gathered beneath her, mixing with the bodily fluids that still dripped from her graying body. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.
I remembered then, what had happened. I had arrived at my sister’s house four days ago. Four days before she explained that she was leaving. I promised to care for her precious Hank, and I had done so up until now. I swatted flies away from my numb face, not quite awake enough to scream. I left immediately, and I haven’t told anyone that Hank is still there, waiting for his owner.