What the fuck?
Good question. Difficult to answer.
Things started well. Last night, I met a girl from Tinder for drinks at my local pub. We laughed, flirted, and drank copious amounts of whatever-the-fuck our bartender, a pal named Chris, kept plonking before us. My date was called Alexandra. She was sweet and affable, just as she had been on the app. I’ve had some pretty shitty experiences on Tinder, and that’s why Alex seemed too good to be true.
We went back to the flat that I share with Chris, and I threw the classic three-date rule out of the window. I slept with Alex.
It was a glorious night. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but I suppose I might’ve been too intoxicated to pay close attention. After we finished fooling around, I think we dozed off at an early hour. I woke at 10pm, or thereabouts, and I had mostly sobered up. The sound of rustling bedsheets must have stirred me from my sleep. I assumed that Alex was simply restless, so I turned to face her.
My Tinder date had thrown the duvet off her body. She was lying, stiff as a plank, alongside me. Her arms clung to her sides, and her unblinking gaze was drilling into the ceiling above us. I felt a sort of instinctive fear that I’d never felt before. Something was wrong with this girl.
Alex hissed. Then, with rapid reflexes, she twisted her head around to face me with those eerie, unfeeling eyes. Horrified, I realised that her previously-human pupils had transformed into long, vertical slits. Unable to bear Alex’s unearthly gaze, I squeezed my eyelids shut, but I could still feel her reptilian gaze upon me.
After a few minutes of silence and stillness, she got out of bed and wandered to the bathroom. I immediately opened my eyes and seized the opportunity to search for answers. I picked up my phone from the bedside table. You can imagine the results I received from Google searches about ‘reptile human’ and ‘reptile planking in bed’. There are so many urban legends about snakes sizing up their owners before consuming them. As for reptilian people, there are plenty of tinfoil-hat conspiracies and memes about Mark Zuckerberg, but this was real.
I was startled by the sudden sound of a switch flicking. Alex had turned off the light to the en-suite bathroom, and the door silently swished open. Nobody walked out.
Nobody walked out.
Something scurried past the foot of my bed. I couldn’t see what had made the sound, but I had a horrible hunch. Scrambling sounds followed. My mattress rocked. At that moment, I realised my deranged Tinder date was crawling beneath the bed.
“Nope, fuck this,” I announced. “I’m out.”
I freed my feet from the duvet, clumsily clambered from the bed, and proceeded to run towards the door. Big mistake. A delicate giggle emerged from under my bed. Before I could reach the door, twig-like fingers snaked around my right ankle. Like a felled tree, I plummeted to the floor with a pained and fearful howl.
I turned my head to face piercing green slits, which hung in the darkness beneath my bed. Alex hissed again. With supernatural strength, she dragged me towards her lightless lair, and I wailed at the sight of her gleaming white fangs. In a flash of movement, the abomination swallowed my foot and sunk her predatory teeth into my ankle. I cried in agony. Alex started to clutch my leg, sliding it into her gluttonous gullet.
My survival instinct prevailed. With my free foot, I walloped the Tinder Terror in her temple. She released her fangs from my tattered flesh, unleashing a scream of pain. Whilst she had loosened her grip, I slithered my wounded foot and ankle free from her mouth.
After springing to my feet, I sprinted out of the bedroom door and firmly closed it behind me.
Why haven’t you called the police?
Astounding idea. Wow. Why didn’t I think to do that? I definitely rushed straight to Reddit before trying anything else.
Give me a break. I’m not a total moron, okay? There’s a reason that I’ve resorted to this post.
After escaping the bedroom, I heaved furniture in front of the door and barricaded Alex in there. Then, I rang the police. They arrived in a matter of minutes. When they entered the bedroom, however, there was no sign of my terrifying Tinder date. No broken window. No hiding place. The police officers tore up the room in search for her, but they eventually gave up. I was scolded for wasting their time.
I didn’t understand. Collapsing onto the sofa, I sat in my unlit lounge and tried to wrap my head around the night’s events. Where had Alex gone? Mere minutes after the police had left, I received an answer.
There was a whispery giggle above me.
A lump ascended to the top of my throat and lodged itself there. I unwillingly looked up, already knowing what I would see. Alex was planking on the ceiling, much as she had positioned herself in the bed. How was she glued there? How did she leave the bedroom without anyone seeing her?
I screamed, tumbling off the sofa and crawling backwards across the floor. It was clear that Alex was no animal. She was an unimaginable horror.
I barrelled out of the building and jumped into my car. That was twenty minutes ago. I’m currently in McDonald’s. Public places seem safe. That being said, I quiver in terror at every person who so much as glances in my direction or, worse, giggles.
Fuck. Chris.