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There was a little of everything in the box that Stephen King found. A book from the outstanding author H.P. Lovecraft stood out from the rest, and King got caught to it since the moment he first read its stories under rainy days and the book shaking between his hands. H.P. Lovecraft was a driving of modern horror, of the imaginary monsters that come alive, of sticky things crawling on the floor and Steve was a big fan of sticky things. And King used this subject in his first stories. If the master would read the next story, I could only say “Wow!” And I think you would like it too.
A shylock from the 1920 counts his money every end of the month. He is the collector of the town because he has leased an entire street of houses that are his property. Every three months, the rent goes up to tenants who are already fed up with this custom of Charles. Each month, next to a candle, Charles counts all his coins after removing them from a safe that is embedded in the wall of his house that faces a mountain. But he notices that, every month, some coins are missing despite the fact that he collects more and more. One day, he finds out that several coins are missing and he discovered some kind of mucus. And a grey stain inside the safe, at the bottom. It is a gelatinous fluid and it smelled really bad. But days went by until this kind of mucus grows and one night, Charles decides to clean up the safe. But at the bottom there’s something that breathes rhythmically.
1
Charles Brown was the owner of the main street in Boad Hill in New England. It was the year 1920 and the house rent went up a few cents every month (three or four cents). He charged a different amount to every tenant because of the location or the number of rooms in each old and broken house. And at the end of the month, he stayed up all night counting his coins under a candle light. After that, he would put them in a sock and he would put the sock in a safe embedded in one of the walls of his house that was facing the mountain. Charles Brown lived in a house pretty withdraw from his empire, the main street in the beginning of Boad Hill. Now, Boad Hill was a small town next to the sea which main activity was to fix old transportation boats.
Luckily, job was abundant and the first people to live in what would become Boad Hill worked, except for Mister Charles Brown who lived from his rent and he took advantage of it. Every three months, he would raise the rent to his tenants and they were beginning to get tired of the situation. But things don’t come alone and something very special takes justice by its hand.
It is making noise behind the wall that is facing the mountain.
2
‘This month I have to raise one cent for the rent of the house,’ said Charles Brown with a stupid smile on his face.
‘But...’
‘One more cent. Take it or leave the house.’
‘Ok, one more cent...’
‘That’s what I thought.’
Charles Brown’s character wasn’t quite nice to people. He wasn’t friendly or humble, but a rude, stupid, rent swindler, a villain. And people began to get tired of the situation. If a riot organized against him, what could Charles Brown do against 2 dozen angry tenants?
Nothing.
But they didn’t try, at least for now.
3
Charles Brown started the fire in his chimney and it burned with the characteristic slowness of a bonfire. Half an hour later, the slow dance of the red flames threw shadows on the walls forming strange cartoons. The heat was rising up in the kitchen and in the nearer rooms. Charles lit up a candle too to open the safe that was in the room next to the kitchen, where the cartoons made by the fire reached. The room key was big and made of iron. Its weight was considerable in the palm of Charles hand. He took the key with his fingers and placed it in the lock. The key squeaked like a rat when it turned. The iron door, painted in grey, squeaked too when it opened and left its secret on plain sight.
There were several socks full of coins. He left the candle on one side and took all the socks. The coins seemed to talk and chirp inside of the socks when he let them fall on the wooden table, next to the candle light.
And then, he spent another night up, counting all of the coins until the fire in the chimney turned into a red, hot ember, and then into a smoking ash.
4
During the next three winter months, Charles Brown kept charging more and more to his tenants and counting the coins collected so far every month. And then, he noticed that the socks were wet and one coin was missing. One sorry coin that could have fallen in the street or got stuck in some of his pockets, or simply, he miss-counted them. So, the next night, he counted them again on the wooden table under the candle light and his dancing flames.
One coin was missing.
5
There wasn’t a person cheaper than Charles Brown in all of Maine. He ate only the enough, he kept himself warm with only the enough and he even used less old socks, so he could have more for his coins. And he wanted even more. His outfit (torn apart and dirty) didn’t indicate that he was rich or without money issues. When you saw him walking on the street, you could confuse him with some other person. He didn’t outstand. He didn’t wear a tailor suit or any jewelry. He wasn’t married and neither had children. And the reason was he didn’t want to leave any heritage the day he died. His epitaph would be “My coins with me!”
6
This time, he raised the rent after two months. His tenants looked at him dead in the eye and clenched their fists. But nothing else happened except for some curses behind Charles’ back, (“I hope the fire eats all of your money!”). But something more inexplicable was about to happen.
7
And the night came, just like every month, punctual like a nail on a board. He turned the key and the door squeaked again. He pulled out his socks and emptied them on the table under the candle light. He spent all night counting and writing numbers on a piece of yellow paper.
This time, four coins were missing.
‘God damn it!’ and he smacked the table with anger and his fist closed. Immediately after, he felt a strong pain in his hand that went up to his forearm and then, he saw it. A grey, wet and sticky mucus stuck to one of the socks that showed a little hole, but big enough for a coin to slip out.
He took the sock. It was wet.
‘Shit,’ he said and stood up. He went to the heat of the chimney and then back to the table, always rubbing his chin.
He didn’t find any explanation for it.
8
From now on, he would count his coins every night. And he discovered more mucus on the socks. It was a gelatinous fluid and it was extremely moldable. Almost as dry mucus. And there was also the stain inside the safe. The same that he had found on the socks. He cleaned it and found a coin inside the safe, but part of it was missing and it was bended.
And more coins were missing.
9
I wish your money goes bad or a monster swallows it so you have to go fetch them from its stomach and you rot inside of it.
Sometimes, the wishes become true, but this doesn’t always have to be true. Or maybe it does.
10
He lit the candle and walked slowly towards the safe and put the key on the lock. He took out the socks and observed that they were wetter and there was more mucus than before. He put the socks on the table and went back to the safe to clean it up inside with a dirty piece of cloth. And he found three bended coins.
11
The tenants agreed to make a protest march in front of his house if he raised the rent again. They even would bring lit torches if things went bad. But nothing happened. The wind took the words through the main street of Boad Hill that winter of 1920.
12
The stains were bigger every time and thirty coins were missing on his count and three old socks were completely torn apart. With sorrow, he took off his own dirty socks and filled them with coins. He put them in the safe. When he took out the key from the room’s lock, he saw mucus in it too. He cleaned it up and winked at it. Nothing more. And then, some weird noises started. Rass rass. It came from behind the wall.
13
Next to the chimney and with a sad face, he noticed that forty three coins were missing. And four of the socks were torn apart.
‘Rats. Damn rats,’ he whispered under the faint candle light.
But there weren’t rats.
14
With a broken and dirty piece of cloth and under the candle light, he cleaned the inside of the safe which was getting rusty in the front and on the inside. He took out five bended coins covered in slime and a part of them was missing. They weren’t circular anymore but looked as if someone had bit them, or they simply were melted on the edges.
‘The rats could not have done this,’ he said in a low voice twisting his mouth.
And that night, 2 more dozens of coins were missing.
He wrote this on an old piece of paper with a twisted quill and ink as dark as charcoal.
15
And then, it happened.
16
Rass, rass, rass!
17
He opened the safe after the endless and continuous squeak of the key and the door. The slime slipped from all the surface of the safe towards the ground, making a puddle at the end of its way. And the noise was stronger in here. Rass, rass, rass. Charles Brown thought there were two socks less inside the safe. At least, the number of missing socks was less than the time before. He frowned and let out a curse.
I wish your money goes bad or a monster eats it.
He pulled out one of the sock filled with coins and put it on the floor, next to the puddle of grey and thick slime. He pulled out another sock and did the same. And a third one. But the fourth one was stuck. He couldn’t pull it out. Something growled from the bottom of the safe when Charles tried to pull the sock. And suddenly, the sock went further back. Charles lifted his brows and closed his mouth. He tried to pull the sock again but nothing happened. A new growl and more slime.
Rass, rass, rass.
It will eat you and your damn money.
He pulled the sock one more time and this one broke throwing dozens of coins in the air that fell to the floor rolling. Some of them reached the chimney. Charles was about to lose balance and fall on his back. He snorted and frowned even more.
‘God damn it!’
He pulled out another sock and put it on the floor. Then he went to pull out another sock but he couldn’t. It was stuck so strongly that he couldn’t lift it either. He was running out of patience.
‘But what the hell!’ he babbled and suddenly, something held his hand and suctioned him inside. His body was bended towards the interior of the box. And an intense al pulsating pain ran up to his arm up to his shoulder. Something was pulling him inside. Something was suctioning him inside.
The candle on the floor showed that Charles’ body was almost entirely inside the safe. The flames kept dancing in the chimney and making shapes around his shadow. Something burped inside and suctioned again. Now, he noticed that something sticky but strong wrapped his arm and the pain increased. Charles Brown screamed but no one heard him, except for the cold walls of his house. And the thing pulled him again. His head was completely inside the safe and he could no longer reach the floor with his feet. And he could see something inside the safe. A grey, amorphous shape was wrapped around his arm and it moved like the bowels do when you poop. It didn’t have teeth but it did have slime. Lots of slime. He felt his fingers “escape” from his hand and as if his forearm was in some kind of acid. And it suctioned and suctioned and the last thing he saw was a huge mouth swallowing his arm up to his shoulder. And the thing pulled him in until his body was inside the safe, twisting and crushing like a plastic doll.
I wish your money goes bad or a monster eats you and you see its acid inside.
18
And the rent pay day came and Charles Brown didn’t show up for the first time in his life. No one missed him. Life continued without him.