Welcome to this week’s installment of many micro stories, ranging in length from 100 words to 500 words.
With each story we hope to deliver a little whimsy into the lives of our readers.
SKIN GATE
The job site was the dirty basement of a rundown building. A few single bulbs hung from the wooden rafters, illuminating spider webs and dark crevices where I’m sure spiders lurked and stared out at me with unhinged hatred.
HR said my sponsor, Jimmy, would be down there to show me the ropes of the job, whatever that entailed. The job description was pretty sparse.
A wiry fellow sat on a stool with his back to me, doing something with a patchwork quilt that covered a hole in the concrete wall. I cleared my throat.
He looked over at me with wide, crazed eyes. Put a finger over his mouth and motioned me to the empty stool next to him.
I sat. “Hey man, I’m Adam.”
“Jimmy.” I looked at his hands. He threaded a needle through the squishy quilt on the wall with desperate speed.
“What is that?”
He stopped, his eyes darted to me.
“Flesh.”
My face twisted up as I touched the wall. The small hairs on the warm skin prickled my hand. My own skin crawled as I jerked away and tumbled backwards.
He shook his head. “Let me guess, they didn’t tell you what we’re doing here?”
It took me a minute to find my words. “The job listing just said they needed people good at sewing. I did some of that in the Army.”
He choked a laugh. “Fucking management. It’s a tunnel, a place where our world and the other place come together.”
I’m sure he saw the confusion on my face.
“Look, we don’t have a lot of time, just put your ear to it and listen. You’ll see.”
He went back to sewing.
I hesitated. What a weird situation. The flesh-like wall unnerved me. I thought about walking out, but my wife gave me an ultimatum. I needed to hold down this job, make ends meet.
I leaned forward and cringed as I placed my ear against the creepy flesh wall. I listened. Part of me wondered if this was some sort of hazing.
Then I heard the screams. Screams I’ve never heard before, like tormented souls, guttural screams from the very bottom of people’s lungs, thousands, millions, trillions of screams.
The cacophony of hell.
Every hair on my body prickled. I pulled my ear away, mouth agape.
Jimmy stopped sewing and looked over at me. “Now, you can go apeshit like the last few they’ve sent me and run out of here with your dick between your legs or,” he holds out a second needle and thread. “You can help me. Flesh keeps us in, and them out.”
I stared at the needle, the screams still rattled in my skull. I never knew terrors like this were possible, not in reality. What would people do if they knew reality’s veil was held by a thin screen of flesh?
I took the needle from Jimmy and helped him keep the nightmares out.
Eric Fomley’s fiction has appeared in Clarkesworld, Daily Science Fiction, and Flame Tree Press. You can read more of his stories on his website ericfomley.com or in his flash fiction collections, starting with Flash Futures.
If you enjoyed this story you can find it and more in the Hawthorn & Ash 2023 anthology.
Iron Faerie Publishing 