The Blob | Teen Ink

The Blob

June 7, 2022
By Anonymous

It had been a very long day I’d spent in my garden. The highly demanding onions needed the ideal conditions for their soon to be revealed fragile stalks. Sweat weighed down my brow and I wiped it off. I removed my shoes at the front of the door and I slid off my sweaty sock. I then walked over to my recliner and layed down. “I have to wake up early tomorrow to get something from the store” I thought. I switched on the TV as the ticks of the grandfather clock indicated 9:00pm. My eyelids were heavy with fatigue and from the television my mind absorbs the un-interpreted noise of the 9 o’clock news. 

It was all very sudden, I noticed something in the corner of my eye. At first I was too happy with the rare absence of anxious thought in my head to acknowledge. But I grew increasingly nervous as that thing continued moving in my gaze. I opened my eyes and saw a mysterious lump in the rug.

The lump looked like a tumor on the shag rug, it was clearly there. I rubbed my eyes and it was still there. I cautiously approached the lump. Every step was heavy with anxious fear and this bulb. I lowered the heel of my foot to the bulge. The lump stood still. In an instant it felt as though the world was being pulled from under my feet like a tablecloth. I tried to move away but my body was growing weak. The world went black and the last thing I heard was my body flopping on the floor.

I awoke to the distance call of bird sound and light streaming through the open blinds. I stretched after having a good night's rest. I barely remembered last night’s events and wasn’t ready to deal with the consequences if they weren’t just “some dream”.

I walked up to my closet upstairs and quickly stripped before swiftly replacing my dirty gardener's clothes with a cleaner set of business casual clothes. I threw on my shoes and grabbed a box of corn flakes from the pantry.

I hopped nervously into my car. After what happened to me last week I didn’t like any heavy machinery anymore but I need to not to starve. I pondered over the decisions I made in those moments for the entire ride just as I had done in the preceding days, the grinding of the tires an unpleasant reminder of the past trauma I’d endured.

The Mechanic pointed to the bump at the top of my car, like a tumor. A somber and chilling reminder that showed to me the fragility of human life and the fragility of the human skull. I shudder remembering the human life I lost. “This is going to cost $200 dollars, the windshield should be $400, the front should cost about $1500. After sales taxes that’s about $2258.” I was lucky I had enough money to pay for the repairs but not lucky in that said repairs couldn’t fix the damage to the soul after having lost someone.

I don’t like the roads. Think of the many drivers who you entrust with your life. How do you know they’re not drunk, or psychotic? I got home and took off my shoes at the door. The door felt light and easy to break. I wish doors weren’t so easy to break. I wish doors were heavy and protective unlike this piece of soft wood that makes my door.

I return to my chair and set myself down, apathetic of the possibility of a returning blob in my carpet. Does it really matter anyways? I don’t know or care what it is and it doesn’t hurt me clearly. I closed my eyes and reclined back with the TV on.

When I awoke a dim light illuminated the entire living room. The orange paint of the walls only made more vibrant by the warm glowing light that filled the room. Outside the vast expanse of woods surrounding my house and the penetrating darkness of the new moon worked together to ensnare the world in darkness. The low hum of an AC unit fills the living room and I can hear my soft breathing just under it. I’m still and relaxed at this moment  when the mumble from the TV ceases.

I feel a tinge of fear in the air, it’s not unfamiliar to me. I’m a very superstitious person and I also am very jumpy. This feeling of uncertainty is something I don’t like. Anything could be in the room. A Russian spy, a goblin, a black bear, or… Even that blob thing on the carpet. I try to shoot up from my chair to check but I am restrained as though invisible chains were ensnaring my whole body. 

Suddenly I spotted the blob. It’s exactly as my vague memory described it. A stiff tumor in the rug. I watch as the blob slowly approaches me. The blob approaches me and I tense up. My paralyzing fear consumes me and I stand still as this blob continues to haunt me. It stands at the foot of my chair and I realize I must deal with it. It’s very difficult but I pull myself up from my chair and begin beating it with an available broomstick near my chair. The blob begins to fade as though it were seeping back into the floorboards below the carpet. 


The author's comments:

This story is about dealing with grief and the death of a loved one. It's about confronting your grief in a healthy way and not ignoring it.


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