Horror - Short

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious and any similarities to actual persons, locations, or events is coincidental. This work cannot be used to train artificial intelligence programs.  No AI tools were used in the writing of this story.

All rights reserved. Shooting Star Copyright © Eddie Generous 2026

SHOOTING STAR

A mosquito landed on Jessica’s naked hip, spreading its stance as it readied to puncture her smooth, naked flesh. A breeze pushed by and she shivered, sending the little vampire away hungry. The moonlight banked blue against her soft tummy, while she lay on her back, one arm under her head, the other reaching across her chest, index and middle fingers tracing circles at the hollow of her throat. So far, it had been the greatest night of her life. Nineteen and as sexually experienced as she was, she had never experienced anything like this.

On her left was Tobias and on her right was Chris. Tobias was thirty, wore a thick mop of coarse black chest hair—a color that matched his pubic region and legs. Chris, Tobias’ husband, was fifty-nine and had a full-body wax every month, and shaved his head five days a week; he had only brown eyebrows to show for his hair color.

Jessica knew Tobias as a senior from the school bus, years back, and had fantasized about sharing his surname. She was in the fourth grade then. She’d met him more recently at the library where, upon graduating, she carried her part-time position into full-time. They talked historical fiction and barrel-chested heroes.

“I’ve got one of those,” Tobias had said, referring to Chris. Perhaps a bit of an exaggeration but it wasn’t an outright lie. Chris was in better shape than most men half his age. In better shape than Tobias himself.

Tobias invited Jessica home for drinks several months later, and once in the home, explained that Chris had a thing. Over the years, now and then, he swung for the other team. So, almost like an arranged marriage, Jessica faced an odd proposition, told the men she’d like another glass of wine and time to think.

A week later, and out under the moon, the tent a few feet away, centering the clearing, a cold fire pit near it, she grinned and watched the sky.

“Ooh, make a wish.” Tobias lifted his right hand to point at a shooting star and Jessica closed her eyes, thinking I wish this night would never end.

Chris pushed himself forward and stood. He wore only white ankle-high socks and tan lines around mid-thigh and on his biceps. Stepping toward the tent, he picked up Tobias’ pants and tossed them onto the outstretched man.

“Need my undies first.” Tobias said this without humor, but not without joy—there was much joy in the post-coital tone. “And maybe another glass of wine.”

Tobias got up then. Next to the campfire pit, a few feet into a shadow cast by the treeline was a small, greyed-by-the-elements picnic table. On top of the table was a box of cabernet sauvignon, the kind perfectly suitable for a night spent by a fireplace or a night spent swatting blackflies.

“Yes, honey. Though maybe we should hit the sack after this one. It’s one minute to midnight. Hate for you to turn into a pumpkin.” Chris held his cellphone out for Tobias and Jessica to see. “If we want the best worms, we need to be out early.”

Tobias had his pants on. Jessica was up to her knees, dressing in reverse to the men—bra, shirt, then underwear…

“He’s always so worried about catching the juicy worms.” Tobias nudged Jessica’s shoulder with his thigh.

“Only your juicy worm, honey.”

Jessica’s grin widened. It was like being in the middle of a catty HBO or Showtime drama. She rose and stepped her legs into denim capris. The clothing smelled like bug spray. Her skin smelled like sweat and cum.

“I hope I’m not speaking out of turn here, but that went swimmingly.” Chris handed a reusable sippy cup full of wine to Jessica.

“Swimmingly? Jesus, you turn into an old man when you’re relaxed.” Tobias accepted a cup. “But yes, I’m surprised. Much better than the sexual escapades I fumbled through with girls of my closeted youth.”

Jessica blushed as the moon fell behind a cloud and enveloped the campsite in a shadow. Simultaneously, her head and Tobias’ head jerked back, both being splashed by the same wave. It took less than a second to register that the wine box had fallen to the ground...though it seemed out of order, as if the moisture came before the thump of the box hitting dirt.

“Dammit, that’ll stain!” Tobias had lost all the playfulness from his voice.

Jessica wiped her face and looked at her hands. Overhead, the cloud pushed on and the moon shined bright enough for her to see that the liquid was too thick to be wine, though it was still red…and hot?

“Chris?” Tobias leapt down to the side of the fallen man. His abdomen glistened, the gushy pink coil of his intestine poking out from his tanned stomach. “Chris.” Tobias held Chris’ head, leaned in and pressed his forehead tight to Chris’ cheek. “Call somebody! Call somebody!”

Jessica scrambled, her hands falling into a hot puddle as she felt around for her purse. It was there, between the table and the fire pit. She pulled her phone free: five bars, LTE. It took three full seconds for her thumb to remember how to make a phone call. 911 flashed, she hit call and lifted the phone to her ear. It rang and rang and rang and rang.

“What the fuck?” She hung up and dialed again.

“Oh, don’t you leave me. Don’t you dare—What’s happening with the goddamned ambulance?”

“It’s just ringing. Ringing…I don’t…I don’t know.”

“Give me the fucking thing.” Tobias lashed out a bloody hand and snatched the phone. “Fucking broad can’t even dial the fucking police.”

Had Jessica heard the slur, she would’ve forgiven him, tense times caused irrational reactions, but she didn’t hear him. The idea that someone or something had done this act had her eyes scanning the blanket of black shadowy treeline.

“Pick up, you pricks!” Frustrated, Tobias fired the phone into the grass.

Jessica hurried after it—not a scratch, but it was sticky and nasty, the screen smeared pink. She located the flashlight app and moved the slider. The flash shined a great swatch onto the campsite. It looked utterly normal, nothing ominous, not so much as the eye shine from an animal. After four quick sweeps, she turned it off, the battery would last about five minutes with that app on the go.

“No. No. Nonono, don’t die on me.”

“Toby, Tobias, what did that to him?”

“What?”

“What did it? It’s not like a heart attack or something, what did that?”

At this, Tobias straightened, looked around the campsite while his hands felt his pockets and then Chris’ pockets. Empty. “Get to the car,” he whispered.

Jessica broke for the passenger’s side, giving the bumper a wide berth. On his hands and knees, Tobias crossed the space like a werewolf in transformation limbo. The interior of the Mini lit upon the opening of doors. Keys dangled in the ignition.

Jessica closed her door and existed in a vacuum for five heartbeats that seemed to vibrate from her soul out. When Tobias opened his side, she nearly screamed. He looked like a horror flick serial killer, bathed in gore.

He grasped the key and turned. Jessica imagined a dead engine and a creature climbing from the woods, big claws and horns. It would smash the windshield, grab her by the throat, and snap her… The car started. The Radio barked, oddly, as they’d been listening to MP3s via Bluetooth, “When you wish upon a star…”

Tobias pulled the shifter to first gear and hit the gas, spinning the rear tires on the grass.

Jessica stared at the dash. The clock read: 11:59; the station insignia was 115.9 FM.

“…makes no difference who you are…”

“Tobias, what’s happening?”

They’d made it back to the main thoroughfare of the park grounds, though it was dead. No lights burned anywhere.

“…anything your hear—”

“Shut up.” Tobias stabbed a finger into the radio power button.

Jessica’s eyes clung to the red stamp left behind as she reached over and gripped Tobias’ wrist. This was all so horribly wrong.

“What? What?” he asked, shaking his arm gently.

Jessica’s grip remained firm. Touching was the natural course. She’d grown up in one of those families that hugged and kissed, shared and leaned in during hard times. When she was a girl, her brother once broke his tibia and for days, the family huddled as if in a pre-game prayer. In the following weeks, they’d all taken turns sharing the boy’s bed, simply to be near him. Jessica had drawn a comic book’s worth of art on the plaster, boy stuff instead of girl stuff, as he’d requested.

“What?” Tobias shook his arm harder.

“No, let me.” Jessica’s voice was small as a child’s and Tobias relented.

Through the woods and then the gate, the Mini found asphalt and it felt like the kiss of 1,000 tomorrows; they were going to make it.

Tobias groaned. Jessica rubbed higher on his forearm, his skin and hair rising to meet her palm as the blood dried to a sticky mat. A tiny village was a mile ahead, its single amber caution lamp bright over the nine buildings clustered beneath: gas and service station, one-room convenience store, breakfast restaurant, shower rentals, and five small, personal dwellings.

Outside the gas and service, an old timey telephone stall perched below the roof’s overhang. Jessica let go of Tobias as he pulled in.

They looked through the window at the telephone. Jessica then lifted her cell and dialed for emergency. Again, it rang and rang and rang.

“Nothing,” she said.

“You should try the payphone.” Tobias reached into his pocket, absently. His gaze remained set on the half-booth.

“Why me?” She knew the answer though, damn well knew it in her core. Tobias was as scared as she was and something was out there. Maybe it was back at the campsite, but maybe not. Maybe it wasn’t alone. And then what?

“I’m behind the wheel, if we have to move quick, it’s easier this way.”

The logic dwelled somewhere behind the cold cotton fog of cowardice. Still, it had to be one of them. Chris was up the hill in the bush, dead.

Dead.

Murdered.

“Fine.” Jessica accepted the change Tobias managed to pass, a few coins spilling into the no-hands land between the seats and the console island separating them. She took a breath, took another, took a third, this one deeper than the first two, and then exited the car.

As if chased, she sprinted for the telephone. Whether or not she needed to, she dumped two quarters into the slot and dialed 911. It crackled and then rang.

And rang and rang.

And rang.

She looked back to the Mini with the phone to her ear. The car fell into a shadow cast by the station.

The connection rang on but refused to link to a human being. She could see Tobias’ nose, teeth, and eyes where he leaned forward in the car, watching her. His window came down and he shouted, “Forget it! Let’s go!”

She hung up the phone and the change rolled out to the slot. She ignored it and hurried to the Mini. Inside seemed so safe. She hadn’t noticed the difficulty in breathing or that her heart pounded a drumroll until sitting in the leather bucket once again.

Tobias pulled the shifter back and spun gravel when he slammed the stick into first. In a half-blink, the village was behind them. The next town was about five minutes up the highway, a bigger spot, had a grocery store and racetrack with slot machines, a damned police station.

Outside, the night darkened as a cloud rolled between Earth and Moon. To Jessica and Tobias’ shared surprise, the lights of town were upon them quickly, not more than a couple minutes on the… Jessica squinted at the dash clock: 11:59.

What?

She pulled her cellphone free of her pocket, making a plank of her body to do so.

11:59.

How?

“Wait. Wait.” Tobias spied the gas and service station, the convenience store, the showers, the restaurant, the little homes. “Wait.”

“It can’t be.” Jessica gripped Tobias’ arm above the wrist while his hand rested on the shifter ball.

Tobias put his foot down and burned through the village at triple the posted limit of 40KM/H. Then it was gone and they were in the bright moonlit night. The moon disappeared again and suddenly light was ahead of them. Tobias slammed on the breaks, recognizing a single lamp and the shapes beneath.

“How the—?” he started to say, but the glass of the driver’s door shattered and something, maybe hands, maybe claws, maybe even paws, pulled him out into the night.

Jessica held his wrist. “No!”

Through the gloom, like a phantom, a metallic shine swung on a pendulous course. The bones and meat snapped and the strength pulling away evaporated, leaving only the gravity of holding an arm severed at the elbow.

Jessica screamed and instinctively tossed the appendage out the open window. Then, suddenly, she was alone in an idling car, on an unfamiliar stretch of desolate highway, with a cellphone that connected to nobody, and a clock on the dash that refused to slip into midnight.

The world beyond the purr of the engine was quiet. Jessica knew she couldn’t stay there in the passenger’s seat; what if that thing came back?

What if it never left?

She flung her body behind the wheel. She hadn’t driven a stick before but understood how it worked. She popped the shifter into first with her foot on the clutch. It lurched forward and she slammed her foot on the gas, squealing but not stalling.

The town was right there again and she burned through, looking into the dark homes, wondering if anyone else existed in this… “No,” she said. It was not the same village, it only looked the same because hick towns could be like that, simple tastes led to simple designs. If it ain’t broke, don’t call a city planner.

The wind buffeted hard against the side of her face, a welcome feeling as she revved the engine past six thousand RPMs while still in first gear. She looked at the shifter. It shined in the dash glow—11:59 in blue—and she stabbed her foot into the clutch and pulled the shifter to second gear. The RPM gauge fell and danced back up. The speedometer boogied up likewise, but much more slowly. She did it again into third and lifted her eyes back to the road, to the single light of the village by the campground.

“Impossible.” She lifted her foot some and cruised, staring through her window, into the homes, hoping for movement. Her eyes fell back onto the road in time to yank the wheel around a huge black lump in the road.

She gasped a heartbeat before the Mini slammed into the side of a house. The airbag puffed out and sent the bucket seat backward, as close to prone as the tiny interior allowed. Her teeth came together and she felt the tips of rear molars come away like peanut particles on her tongue. Blood began to seep from the inside of her cheek; she tasted the iron flavor deeper than just in her mouth.

The world was out of focus. The airbag was a comfort-less pillow before her, taking her away in blinks: her bed at home the night when she’d met with Tobias and Chris to discuss the arrangement; the gift from her father, the Serta queen sized mattress with a pillow-top; her childhood single on movie night.

The airbag deflated and the pressure on Jessica’s chest left with it. A moment of clarity had her gasping an enormous gulp and her sore body jerked upright. One running light remained aglow and shined partway into a kitchen. Jessica swallowed blood and bits of teeth as she leaned, grabbing the steering wheel to hold her straight. She tried the handle. Stuck. She tried again, this time with her shoulder pressed to the door. It creaked, crow-like, deformed steel on steel. She looked back out onto the road. The single overhead lamp shined down on much of nothing. Something was out there, had to be. Whatever it was, it had snatched Tobias and killed Chris.

An ache centered her chest. She swallowed a breath that threatened to lodge itself in her windpipe. One foot in front of the other, she was out of the car and heading for the garage door only 10 feet from where she’d crashed.

Pitch black aside from where the light from the street reached as well as the shine of the single dimmed headlight pressed against the home. The garage had no windows. Instinctually, Jessica ran a hand along the wall next to the door, reeling back in a snap when she felt cobwebs.

Steeling herself, she pushed through the stringy wall and felt behind. Wood, likely once sanded smooth, but ridged with the natural grooves of time, but no switch. Again, preparing for the worst, Jessica closed the door halfway and stepped around it, feeling to keep in reach of the exit.

Another soft mat of web separated her fingers from wall, having done it once, she’d overcome most of the fear. She waved, fingertips grazing until they hit a pair of familiar shapes. Double switches. She lifted them both. The garage lit, as did the driveway beyond the door.

Jessica registered the white cotton webbing on the wall and her hand and arm but saw no spider. She turned then and looked at an absolutely normal garage. A riding mower, a snowblower attachment for the mower, a set of car stands. On the far wall hung handheld gardening tools from shovels to trowels. Oil stains and greasy buildups marred the cracked cement floor. On the back wall, above the workbench, were a small TV and a CB radio, alongside a wide assortment of nuts, bolts, and junk.

Jessica knew nothing about CB radios aside from the fact truckers, cops, and hobbyists used them. Maybe someone was listening, maybe someone was out there.

A toggle marked POWER flipped up and a red light glowed. She snatched the microphone—a rectangular thing that weighed more than she guessed before touching it. She pressed the button on the side. “Hello? Hello, is anybody out there?”

She depressed the button and listened, heard nothing. The face of the radio had dials and switches. She turned the one marked LOUDNESS to the right. A static hiss filled the garage. Next to that was a button marked SCAN. She pressed it and the hissing ceased for a second, then resumed, then ceased, then resumed as it jogged through the dead airwaves.

“Goddamn you.”

She turned away, let the thing scan for eternity if it wanted to do so. Back by the light switches was a door. A normal door. Light brown veneer, shiny, with a diamond shaped window at average adult eye-level. Jessica thought her grandmother had the same door on the house she moved into after her grandfather died and she no longer wanted to live with the constant reminders in the farmhouse, but also she didn’t want to live so far from the curling rink.

Jessica stepped close and saw herself in the reflection cast by the window. The blood appeared brown as it flecked her face and soaked into her top. Its importance instantly fell as she caught sight of the spider on her shoulder: long spindly legs, huge knees—or were they elbows?—body like a shiny sphere. A squeal passed her lips. She swatted, turning her body away from the offending shoulder. The spider fell and balled up, playing dead. Jessica spun the rest of the way then, trying to see her back, feeling her neck and under her shirtsleeves.

Revulsion came on her in waves and she shuddered three times before opening the door and stepping into the home.

“Hello?” she called, though if anyone was home, she suspected they would’ve come to check why someone had run an automobile into their kitchen.

The place was eerily dated. A Felix the Cat clock swung his tail and shifted his eyes, minute and hour hands only slightly askew—11:59, as she knew it would say. Seeing it again drove a nail into the impossible.

Her stupid wish.

“I wish tonight would end.” She stood in the kitchen, staring at the smiling cat. The clock danced but time remained still. “Please, just let it end.”

A crack rang out from the street. Jessica watched through the thin window sheer. A thing, seven, eight feet tall, lifted a black oblong shape from the street, holding it upright. It then swung a loose part.

This was Tobias, the swinging thing was his arm, waving. Jessica’s heart revved high again and she jerked away. That thing was tall and skinny, but beyond that, she had no idea, didn’t want to know. Turning and running, she immediately had to leap sideways to avoid a Formica-topped dining set.

The moonlight and the streetlamp shined into the home enough that she saw the phone on a table resting next to a couch. It didn’t fit, updated, despite it being a landline. She picked it up. The red light shined. Instead of dialing for an emergency, she dialed her parents’ number.

It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

And then a voice answered, “Hello?”

“Mom?”

“Yeah. Jess?”

“Mom, I’m stuck. It’s all screwed up and—”

“Jess?”

“Mom?”

“No.”

“What?”

“Not Mom. Not Mom. Not Mom. Not Mom. Not Mom! NOT MOM!” The tone went higher as it grew louder, rising to a shriek.

Jessica howled, tossed the portable phone across the room. It thunked hard against a piece of furniture hidden by shadow. Too hard to be a sofa arm or a padded chair back. Too hard to be… The shadow lengthened and a figure rose, its head like an inverted triangle of matted black hair, as if the brain hid behind the jaw. When the light hit its eyes, she saw the pitting, like irregular honeycomb. The think blinked at her and the fluid spilled gently from each tiny hole. It then reached an extremity into the glow from the street—three long, metallic claws jutting from a furry hand.

Jessica screamed, spinning back to the kitchen. Felix the Cat continued to wag its tail and swing its eyes. 11:59. The door banged against the garage wall. The radio hiss was painfully loud for a second before it stopped—scanning again—then a voice sang out, slow and drawling in an operatic tenor: “When you wish upon a star…”

Jessica turned right instead of left, for the left took her to the street where something had Tobias and the right took her into a mystery. Possible death was better than undeniable death. That much her harried mind knew without question.

The back door had a window that revealed only darkness. It swung inward. Behind her, the other door opened and she saw a different face. Lips like a gator. Beady eyes like a crab. Nose a pair of sunken holes. Skin tough and patchy like irradiated cowhide. Claws glistened on its big hand from beneath a coat of coarse black hairs.

“What do you want?” she screamed the moment before she plunged into the backyard abyss. Her feet caught and she stumbled, pitching forward as she heard the off-key singing, “When you wish upon a star, dead dead dead no matter who you are!” same as the voice from the telephone.

She crawled into the void. The floor beneath her tipped and she front rolled. The hill was spongey grass and damp soil, but still, it stung. The ground beneath her disappeared again and she was freefalling. Her ass landed hard.

“Ooh,” she moaned and rolled into the fetal position for five heartbeats before remembering that she needed to move.

Onto her knees, she looked around, the campsite treeline was before her and she knew the tent, the fire pit, and the picnic table lingered behind her. Like a reset, she fell back, exhaled a pent breath, let her heart slow. She looked to the sky.

“Ooh, make a wish.” Tobias’ voice filled the night as a shooting star streaked by.

Jessica didn’t hesitate: “I wish this night would end!”

“You don’t mean that,” Chris’ voice sounded hurt, his hand crossed as he turned to his side, pressing his…

Jessica screamed as the furry hand slammed claws in and out of Tobias’ chest, blood and tissue splashing like a kid at a good mud puddle. Tobias fell and Jessica turned to Chris, who’d been next to her, unmoved by what had just happened.

He ran a sharp finger over her bare tummy, trailing up to her cleavage, stopping at the hollow of her throat. “You don’t mean it; I know you don’t.”

Suddenly Chris was not Chris; Chris was a creature and it had draped a leg over her own. She looked back and saw Tobias crawling toward her, his face pale, blood bubbling from his lips, blood draining from the huge cavity in his chest, blood everywhere. “You can’t un-wish eternity,” he said, rasping before draping an arm around her hip, pulling her tight, nuzzling the gore against her, trailing fingernails of his—no, not his, a creature’s—free hand. The third creature loomed above them like a prison guard.

Stars fell from the sky, trailing long golden tails. “I wish! I wish! I wish I was at home!” Jessica wailed, eyes closed to make the magic stronger.

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