Member-only story
FICTION
The Mouth Drain
A tale of body horror
In the dream, he stared at the mirror. There was something wrong with his eyes. As he watched, his irises changed color, from blue to green to orange and then to gray, his pupils dilating until their blackness was all that was left. He felt himself moan with unease as they continued into the whites, finally pushing his eyelids outward. He should have been blind, but could somehow still see, as the surface of his eyes caved in and left vacuous holes. His eyelids became lips, his eyes the mouths of fish, that worked as if they were trying to draw oxygen in from the air. He tried to scream, but found his voice gone, along with his tongue, which seemed to wither into wisps of dirty smoke. His hands fumbled at his mouth, just in time to feel his teeth dropping from his gums, leaving raw bloody sockets, bouncing from his palms and landing into the sink with little chink-plink-clink noises.
Brian awoke with a cry escaping his throat like air from a burst balloon. Yanking the sheets back from his sweaty chest, he sat up, ran his hands over his face. They came back wet.
“Mmm, you okay?” Sheila was groggy, asking with her eyes closed. He could see her in the blue illumination of the digital bedside clock.
