Welcome to Monday Minis, a series where I’ll be sharing very short, eerie stories and haunting little reflections.
This story is about what might happen if our pent-up emotions, like rage, took on a life of their own.
Black Tears
It was a hell of a day, and all I wanted to do was shower and sleep. I walked into my apartment to find my boyfriend sitting on the couch smoking—after I’d asked him several times not to smoke inside my apartment—and laughing as he scrolled TikTok.
“Hey, Jacob,” I said, hanging up my jacket. “I tried calling you on the drive home. I’ve had a shitty day.”
No response. He didn’t even look my way.
“HELLO?” I yelled.
“Why are you screaming? I’m right here,” he said, still looking down at his phone.
“What’s up?” He took another drag.
“Nothing. Never mind. I’m going to shower.”
As I let the water heat up, I undressed and noticed the bruises on my leg from my fall this morning. After a few minutes, the steam began to curl and thicken, swirling around me like something alive.
I stepped into the shower and immediately jolted as the scalding water pounded against my arms. I quickly adjusted the temperature and sat on the built-in bench. In the cocoon of heat and steam, I finally allowed myself to cry.
My day had started with a creep coming up behind me and grabbing me, making me fall as I tried to run to my car. I called Jacob, but he didn’t care at all. Told me I was overreacting. Said I shouldn’t report it because the chances of the police caring were next to none. Then he cut the conversation short because he was tired and wanted to go back to bed.
At work it was more of the same. Every time I tried to talk about my ideas, I was cut off or dismissed by my asshole boss. My coworkers tried to mansplain why my idea wouldn’t work.
The more I thought about my day, the harder I bawled. My whole body trembled as my shoulders and chest heaved with each sob. The hiss of the water drowned out the echoes of every gasp for air. My legs went weak as my heartbeat pounded through my chest and my vision started to blur. I wiped my eyes, blinking hard to clear them. As I tried to calm down, things came into focus, and that’s when I saw it.
Black goo clung to my hands and streaked the shower walls. It slid down the tiles, pulling toward the drain, then stopped. It quivered, pulsing like it had a heartbeat. Suddenly, the sludge bubbled, hissing where it touched the floor. It surged upward in a violent motion, slapping against the wall before pulling itself together. At first it was shapeless, then limbs started to push through, and the outline of a woman appeared through the steam.
The figure kept growing until it nearly touched the ceiling. It hunched forward, its wet hair hanging like seaweed as it loomed over me. We stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, and for a moment the world simply ceased. Then a deafening, soul-shattering shriek filled the bathroom, shattering the shower glass.
She ran out of the bathroom, and without thinking, I followed her. She began hurling my ceramic dishes, one after another. Some hit the walls and shattered, shards flying across the floor. Jacob jumped up, trying to run for the door. She launched a plate at his head, and he fell to the ground.
She was on top of him in seconds, pinning him down. She grabbed the lit joint from his hand and pressed it into his cheek, then dragged it across his lips, his nose, his forehead, his eyebrows. I saw his mouth move as if to scream, but I couldn’t hear him. All I heard was a steady, high-pitched buzzing. She opened the front door and tossed him out like a rag doll.
She slammed the door shut and smiled at me as she began to fade, her edges blurring as she slowly dissolved into a black cloud.
I looked down, my hands trembling. The tips of my fingers were red and blistered.