This story may or may not be based on true events. All tall tales have some grains of truth…
**
Two likely lads stumbling up to the Aro Valley tinny house…
‘It’s just around the bend!’
Around the corner, then up a flight of stairs; two large dogs snarling over the fence. Sid knocks on the door. Shuffling sounds…
A tatted-up bro opens up, chill as can be. This is definitely the place.
*
There were five in the flat: Seth was the only one with a girlfriend, and Eric the only one with a job.
Bare-bones living: no insulation, ancient appliances. Town was too expensive, so their shitty TV was the main source of entertainment.
Plus the weed. Always the weed… *
Sid and Colin burst through the door.
‘Did you get it?’ - Seth, sounding hungry.
‘Yep.’ Sid unfurled the foil from his pocket, and placed it on the table.
‘Ok. I put in $7.50, Colin put in $5’ - Sid split off two chunks of the puke-green weed. There were rumours the gangs sprayed their weed with toxic fertilisers, but that was probably an urban legend.
‘I put in $5,’ said Seth, groping around for his share.
Dylan quietly took his $2.50. Dylan was always the quiet one.
-
The scungy-as bucky bong was the central feature of the living room. The flatties treated their grinders like treasure chests, trading cones as supplies dwindled... ‘3 cones for a pie’, ‘one cone for $2’
Seth was different, though. While Eric played banker and Sid played dealer, Seth played Gollum: hoarding his precious. 😶🌫️
The other guys were thinking about an intervention, but were way too lazy.
‘Let Kirsten sort it out’, whined Sid. ‘She’s gotta be good for something.’
-
Kirsten’s presence was a source of tension. The other guys were jealous, but also laughed at the daily soap that was their relationship…
Colin thought she hammed it up for the unwitting audience, but also liked having chats that weren’t about video games or YouTubers and taking trips with someone who didn't see all the fucking stupid visuals!
As if on cue, she arrived.
‘Where’s Seth?’
‘Where do you think?’
Kirsten sighed as she headed to his room at the back of the flat.
-
Everyone reckoned the back room was cursed. Eric swore he literally saw the bad vibes during an acid trip.
It was an illegal extension to the colonial architecture; the only reason people used it was because the rent was so cheap.
‘It beats living in a garage,’ Seth said, during a bout of scathing depression.
The ceiling was uneven, the windows leaked and mould was ubiquitous. All Aro flats are mouldy, of course, but Seth’s room was like the final boss of a horror game. It was hardly surprising Seth had become a junkie: the room basically invited him to escape reality.
-
The TV flickered. Sid had become keen on alt-right podcasts, and the others groaned as he sprung them on them like an unwelcome guest.
Everyone had a quirk: Dylan dug disco, Eric parkour videos and Colin Simpsons memes.
It was a democracy of sorts; but, as always, weed was the tie-breaker. Eric could afford the most, so he got to pick (when he wasn’t at work). Eric worked security at the uni, and usually brought some RTD’s along with him. He was always wasted, and kinda ADHD anyway.
He span a good yarn, though, and that's pretty essential to killing time for free.
Sid stepped outside for a durry. Proudly grunge, he surveyed the street in his ratty dressing gown, periodically propositioning passing girls. It was a student/dole neighbourhood: most of the flats probably had a similar cast of characters.
Perhaps unbeknownst to him, Sid had become the block mascot, emblematic of their rustic crapulence. He was a mean drunk, though, and Kirsten stopped inviting him to parties after another evening of bitter rants, laced with copious swearing. Sid talked a big game about the occult -- and about girls -- but everyone secretly knew he was a pussy prone to self-sabotage. *******************************
Anyway, it was getting late and the boys were all several cones in, hypnotised by Colin’s psytrance playlist…
Suddenly, a scream. From the back. Kirsten came running out, hysterical.
‘There’s something happening! help!’
Everyone ignored her. They were too high.
‘Guys!!’ - she screeched.
Still no response. She grabbed Sid by the arm, yanking him out of his La-Z-Boy.
‘Hey, watch it, toots.’ Sid was angry.
‘Fuck you, Sid!’ - she slapped him, hard.
Everyone slowly rose from their stupor and ambled down the hall; stoner zombies following the lady of the house.
Seth was sticking out of the wall, half-eaten by the eerie mould. It was growing outwards, pulsing with otherworldly energy.
‘Don’t just stand there. Help him!’
She slapped Sid again.
‘Why me?’
‘You’ve got the magic fetish!!’
‘That’s only to impress girls!’
‘Then impress me, Sid!!!’
He mumbled through an incantation, probably made-up. Seth’s torso was soon covered, leaving his head as the only trace of his former humanity.
‘Help!’ - Seth’s voice, gurgling with an unearthly strain.
Eric braced himself against the bed, and tried to pull him out. As Seth disappeared, Eric became the next victim. Dylan quietly stepped out as the mould started devouring Eric. It was growing…
-
‘It’s taking over the house,’ screamed Colin.
‘What do we do?’
‘Run!’
The gang ran outside; the mould was growing exponentially, pursuing the desperate flatmates. As they made it outside, they saw Dylan pouring out a can of petrol. He lit his lighter, and dropped it. The flat went up like a bonfire: eerie sounds emanated, and the blaze turned a shade of purple-green. Within 5 minutes, it was over. The flat wasn’t just burned – it was vaporised. Nothing but ashes.
‘How are we going to explain this?’ - Sid
‘Explain what?’ - Dylan
The house had vanished. Or so it seemed…
‘What do we do now?’
… shrugs …
‘Buy more weed!’
😶🌫️
Comments