The Cubicle

The Cubicle
By Scott Wilson
Word Count: 517

Jack gripped onto the ceramic toilet bowl in the filthy public toilet and hurled his breakfast and lunch up. The backsplash of brown-brackish water sprayed his face, causing him to vomit violently again. The sound of the guy in the cubicle next to him dropping to kids off at the pool, and the smell of the dangerous load made Jack vomit the remaining contents of his stomach.

“Sounds like you’re dyin’ in there mate,” the guy next door to Jack yelled over the cubicle wall.

Jack wiped his mouth with a wad of toilet paper and tossed it into the bowl. He saw a streak of dark red blood on the paper and vomited again, this time it was a mixture of blood and bile.

“You need a doctor or somthin’ buddy?” The voice called out to Jack.

Jack turned to answer but another wave of vomit hurtled from his mouth, covering the cubicle wall.

“Hey, keep it over your side,” the voice said.

Jack felt something more solid coming up his throat and gagged. He spewed again, this time a large flesh sack hurled out of his mouth, leaving a trail from his mouth to the cistern. It appeared to form two hands out of the bloody, rubbery flesh and gripped onto the sides of the cistern.

Jack gagged, his airway was blocked and he couldn’t breathe through his nose as it was chockers with diced carrots, not that he remembered eating them.

“What the hell’s that smell?” the man in the cubicle grunted at Jack.

Pain flowed inside of Jack as the sack pulled itself out of Jack’s mouth, tearing away some vital organs inside his body. He hurled a steady stream of blood onto the floor.

The thing he vomited moved around on the cistern and faced Jack. It was the size of a football and shaped itself from a formless mass of bloody flesh to what looked like one of those little M&M’s that your saw on TV. Slowly, two eyes forced their way to the surface of the creature and a mouth full of shark like teeth also appeared.

Jack tried to stand up, but slipped on the bloody floor, crashed to the ground, knocking his head on the toilet paper dispenser.

“What the hell you doin’ in there mate?” the guy next door yelled.

Jack tried to yelled but gurgled and choked on another stream of blood that poured from his mouth. He tried to stand up again. The creature leapt at his and began tearing at the flesh on his face and neck.

The man in the next cubicle pulled his pants up and tried to stand up, but slipped on the blood and fell to the floor. He landed with his face looking directly into the eyes of the creature in the cubicle with Jack. He had no chance to scream before it leapt at him and devoured his face in a piranha like frenzy.

THE END