Flash Fiction: What’s This

Author’s note: This Flash Fiction challenge from Chuck Wendig just made me want to participate.

*****

What’s This?

Joe woke up feeling disoriented. He got out of bed and wrapped his fingers around a baseball bat and went to investigate. In the middle of the kitchen floor stood a dark circle. Joe flipped on the lights to see better. The light glinted off the circle as if it were rubbery molten gold.
“What the…?”
The goo shivered slightly at the sound of his voice. It seemed somehow to beccon him to it, singing a siren song that he couldn’t hear over the blood murmuring in his ears.

Joe lowered the bat from his shoulder, pushing it into the golden goo gingerly, ready to drop it and run. The goo gave way when the bat touched it and made a tiny shlooping sound when he pulled it away. The goo didn’t stick nor did it leave any mark on the bat. Joe sniffed the air in the kitchen, trying to figure out if it smelled funny. It smelled like his kitchen with the lingering scent of his steak dinner still in the air.

Joe got down on his knees an arms’ length away from the mass and stared at it, not knowing what to do. He couldn’t take his eyes away from its hypnotic gleaming, wondering if he should call someone to at least make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Something inside him objected vehemently to the notion, arguing that what he had might be very valuable.

Without consciously realizing it he leaned toward the mass, placing a steadying hand next to it, reaching a finger in the middle of the circle. The goo tingled on his finger as if it were just so much mineral water. Joe almost laughed at the pleasant sensation, pulling his hand away. He stared at the glistening, noting a deep red dot had appeared in the place where his finger had been. As he watched the dot disappeared and the mass was uniform once more. he was vaguely aware of a sudden sensation of happiness and peace. Bringing his hand in front of his eyes he realized that the same red that had marred the golden surface was now oozing down his finger and he felt guilty at having disturbed something so perfect. He sat back, laying the supporting hand on his knee, which suddenly felt very wet. He looked down, feeling detached as if he were watching something on television. The crimson liquid flowed freely from the nub that used to be his hand. The golden mass had followed the trail of blood and was fast overtaking his knee, spreading the tingling sensation with it.

When Joe understood what was happening he tried to get up but only one of his legs was now working and he crashed sideways into a cabinet. The mass was growing in front of his eyes as it overtook his body limb by limb. By the time it reached his chest he was catatonic with pleasure and didn’t even realize taking his last breath.

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