Bean Stalker

Luther slammed the brown leatherbound book shut and slid it away to the center of the dining room table. He chewed his left thumbnail as his eyes darted around the dimly lit room, his blood-stained head thumping as it looked around like a weathervane in a twister. Perry County was mighty lonely and mostly farmland. Folks were far enough apart that it took Luther ten minutes to drive his Model T to the nearest neighbor. It was a drive he might have made if his wife Glenda and daughter Nell hadn’t taken it to his mother in-laws a County over.

“Damnit woman. Couldn't wait to tell em” The words were guttural and desperate.

The chair he sat on fell to its back as he forced himself up and away from the dining room table. Blood trickled down his chin from the wound he’d chewed open on his thumb. In the kitchen, drawers and their contents were pulled out and dumped onto the floor as he fanned them out with his hands. Panicked frustration boiled over as he cursed and flung open every cabinet until he found what he was looking for. A box of twelve-gauge buckshot sat half open behind a box of mothballs and a half-used roll of duct tape.

“Cleatus is dead. Dadgum beans. Shoulda never planted em”

With the box firmly in his hand, he shuffled to the living room where he pulled his double barrel from the wall mount. Two loud clicks filled the room as Luther broke open the chamber, loaded it, then snapped the barrel closed. A board creaked on the front porch as it bore the weight of something heavy, something he’d been running from. He froze. A deep child-like laugh cut through the horsehair plaster and seemed to reverberate in his rib cage. He swung the barrel toward the window and thanked the Lord his thin yellow curtains were drawn so he didn’t have to see it again.

The porch light was on and shined a few checkers of light through dining room window, onto the table and floor. A tall silhouette appeared in front of the window as it walked the length of the porch. Heavy steps thumped loud on the boards. The end of the barrel shook as Luther looked down it, doing his best to keep the bead on the thing’s shadow.

All the shaking had shaken loose the shells Luther stuffed in the front bib of his overhauls. One managed to slither through a rip in the bottom of the pocket where it quivered and dangled by the brass casing. It tumbled and hit the floor with a loud clack.

“Oh no”

The shadow on the porch crouched down and turned a head the size of a watermelon towards the window. It’s head was round with a flat face, surrounded by a mane of hair. It rocked side to side trying to peer through the window. A clawed hand the size of a bicycle tire rapped a fingertip on the window.

With lunatic quickness it darted to the right and off the porch. Rapid footsteps thudded on the ground as they ran around the back toward the kitchen where the door chain hung loose. With a whimper, Luther ran to the back door and fumbled with the chain. He managed to slide it into the groove when it jerked tight as the thing forced open the back door. Luther fell backward to the ground and shot one barrel into the ceiling. Plaster and lead paint chips dusted his greasy brown hair. Should have left it where I found it, he thought. His ears rang as the clawed hand snaked through the gap in the door and felt around the countertop and the inside of the door. Luther let out a frightened exhale, on the verge of sobbing.

“I’d like my book back please” Tears poured out of the corners of Luther’s eyes as he struggled to hold his bladder. The green-haired arm turned its palm toward the ceiling and motioned slowly with its fingers. Luther staggered to his feet, backpedaling towards the dining room table where he picked up the book. He kept his last barrel pointed at the things arm as he crept back toward it. It just held its hand out like a statue. The quiet was more frightening than its otherworldly voice. Luther tiptoed closer and held the book far away from his body like it might bite him. He dropped it into the things palm with a clap. Green, leathery fingers snapped over it like a mouse trap before the arm withdrew back outside. It spoke again.

“Did you like it?” Oh God its voice. It sounded like it had been slowed and warped over a 45 record.

“I didn’t know it belonged to anyone. I was just wandering….You got it now though, so let me be”

“Hee hee hee…Did…You…Like it?”

Luther’s mind raced, struggling to comprehend what was happening. Is this real? What if I answer wrong. When in doubt, tell the truth “No…I certainly did not”. The thing burst into bellowing laughter that shook the windows and hurt Luther’s eardrums.

“That’s too bad” It laughed again.

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re part of the recipe”

Luther’s bladder let go “Let me be!”

“Oh no no no. I’ve been watching you” Watching him, from where? He hadn’t even figured out what the hell it is. “And when I’m done with you, I’m doing to eat your wife and daughter when they get back”

“Shut up!!”

“Their bones will make a tasty bread”

“I ain’t done nothing to you. Neither did cleatus! We was just wandering around!”

Silence again. No footsteps, no laughter, just quiet. His heart sank as headlights shined across the walls followed by the sputter of an engine that died in the barn. Then screams.

“Glenda…”

Luther crashed through the front door, busting the screen door clean off the hinges. He ran past the bean stalk that had appeared overnight. Dirt crunched with every stride as he ran to the barn. An anxious vomit nearly escaped him at what he saw. Backlight from the outdoor barn light shined in and landed on the thing. It was over twelve feet tall and green. It wore a tattered garment the size of a sail, slung over one of its shoulders. Dark green and black hair covered all of it except for it’s face. It’s face was round, pockmarked and surrounded by a main of black and twisted hair like a sunflower from Venus. Glenda’s feet kicked as they stuck out of the creature’s mouth. Cracked and gnarled gray teeth were swallowing her whole as her muffled screams echoed from inside the thing. Nell struggled to breath as it held her like a beer can. It’s thick, spidery fingers squeezed her arms tight against her body.

With a prayer and a flash, Luther unleased his last barrel into the creature knee cap. Green slimy blood exploded and shot out the side of its leg. It buckled, dropping Nell into a haystack next to the car. Like a bullfrog, it’s throat began to pulsate and more of Glenda emerged from its mouth until it regurgitated her body hard onto the ground. She lifted her head for a moment before fainting, her body covered in brown, yellow phlegm.

His hands shook like he had palsy but Luther managed get his fingers around two more shells tucked in the bib of his overhauls. The thing howled in agony and began to sob from the pain as Luther reloaded and clicked the barrel closed. Glenda awoke from her stupor and let out a banshee scream. On one knee, the creature looked down at her with an angry grimace and raised its fist like a sledge. Before it could bring it down, Luther let loose both barrels into the creature’s gut, spilling more slime and entrails that looked like wet, twisted vines. It fell onto its side with a thud that was felt beneath Luther’s feet. Nell and Glenda scrambled to Luther’s side as he reloaded once more. The girls held each other as Luther eased over to the creature. Now it took ragged breaths that raised and lowered its bloody patch of a stomach. He gave it a wide birth, out of the range of its eight-foot arms.

Luther had a good look at the creature’s face now. It’s eyes were dark brown and glossy like it had been crying. It looked back at him with a pained frown that spat green slime with every breath. Its breaths deepened and for a moment, Luther thought it might get back up. On its fourth deep breath in, the creature held it before it wailed out the word “Daddy!”

A few moments of quiet passed before the earth began to quake and the moon disappeared behind a shadow.