Prologue

The ancient claw-foot tub sits alone under fluorescent lights; the white tiles lining the walls and the floor give very little evidence to the cold dirt and concrete surrounding this basement room.

An odor faintly reminiscent of copper permeates the room, and the only sound is a slow dripping noise from the underside of the tub. The drain doesn’t quite seal tight, and it is from here the noise originates. The droplets on the underside of the tub’s drain reflect the room’s white light in bright red glimmers as they grow fat, let go and fall the six inches to the brass grill on the floor drain.

Inside the tub, a form slowly sits up. The head and chest which rise slowly into view are smooth and hairless; the red liquid they have been soaking in runs slowly, in thick viscous rivulets, back to the tub below. Small bits of organic matter, or maybe just clotted liquid, cling to the arms and shoulders of the grotesque figure seated in the tub.

In the shiny, dripping red face, eyelids open and two bright, icy blue eyes stare out at the silent basement. With a small smile, which exposes square white teeth, the man in the tub pulls the plug and releases the red liquid in a gush of sound, to be swallowed by the floor drain. As the ancient tub begins to drain, we can tell that its insides are stained red, and have apparently been filled many times before with the thick liquid.

The man sits quietly as the tub drains, then stands and turns on a small shower-head.

This has been an exquisite soak, but there is work to do. The newest hunt will start again tonight, and he has to prepare his next disguise.

(c) 2017 - dustygrein