My Empire of Dirt [Pt 3]

"Once you get into cosmological shit like this, you got to throw away the instruction manual."

*-Stephen King, ‘It’ *

Upon arriving home later that day, James sent Stephen and Rose up to their room, and made sure they closed their door behind them. Then, he turned his attention to Carla. She was the first of the triplets, a whopping two minutes older than Stephen and Rose. Her hair was raven black like her mother’s, her eyes brown, like her father’s. She clasped her hands together, and dug her toes into the carpet; her gaze crawled around the room, resting anywhere besides Doctor Harlan’s eyes.

“Well?” Harlan asked his daughter.

She did not respond.

“Why didn’t you tell me you brought a stray dog into the house, Carla? Why did I only find out about it this morning?”

Carla remained silent. James ground his teeth in frustration.

“Carla, baby, I love you, but this is ridiculous. Did Miss Smith make you bring Mug-mu-“ he growled, shaking his head. “Did Miss Smith make you bring that mutt into my house?”

No response, save for a… Was that a giggle? Harlan’s eyes widened.

“You know what? That’s it. Go to your room, Carla.”

And she did, her lips curled into a smile all the while.

Several hours passed, in which Doctor Harlan indulged a cold beer and a warm bath. Afterwards, he cleaned his children up, embracing each in a warm hug. By the time the last of the triplets was washed, the time was 8:00 PM. James gathered Stephen, Rose, and Carla together, got them buckled into the car, and drove to the Old-Fashioned Ice Cream. James selected for himself a triple-scooped fudge cone, Stephen chose a double scoop vanilla, while Rose and Carla picked out two single scoop rocky road cones. The family of four then drove out to the Battery, Downtown. In this case, the Battery is directly referencing a waterfront section in the city of Charleston, which overlooks the Ashley River. One might find a parade of boats smothered in Christmas lights, haunted ghost tours, fireworks, or a myriad of tourists, depending on what time of year they visited.

As the fireworks shot up into the sky, James Franklin Harlan felt at ease- truly at ease- for the first time that day. He hadn’t noticed it before, but there had been a great deal of pressure built up in his head since that morning, and it seemed to have finally, fully dissipated. He looked around at his children; at Stephen, who sat a bit away from his sisters and skimmed through his little digital camera, admiring the photos he’d been taking. Carla, who was sharing her cone with Rose. And Rose, who, between licks of ice cream, hid behind her sister to escape the booms of the fireworks. Harlan leaned back, sighing contentedly. The only thing that was missing was his wife.

But it was best, he supposed, not to dwell on that. He’d found a new love, after all-

(You sick fuck,)

In his work and in his children. Combatting the disease that claimed his wife, and raising the little monsters they’d made together.

As the fireworks boomed overhead, something else was happening below.

Carla leaned over the edge of the battery, her family captivated by the light show, and grinned. A wave crashed against the wall, splashing her face with salty wetness. She swiped at her eyes, and thought she could see…

Yes, yes, god help them, there it was, its body bloated from the water. What appeared to be an adult hand pressed outwards from its belly, strained against its impossible skin. The fingers were nearly visible through the flesh, thin and skeletal but horribly, undeniably alive. Carla did not cry out, for she knew (for it told her) that her father could not know, not again. Her siblings could, in time; yes, she knew (it whispered to her,) that her siblings would come around… But not her father. Not before the other two, anyway.

From the creature’s eye, a three foot long insect, not unlike a tapeworm, crawled free. It sagged down Muggsy’s snout, and formed into a strange puddle on the rocks. It climbed up the wall, its body almost melding to the concrete, and then into Carla’s cupped hands. Her face showed nothing short of bliss as she brought the worm to her ice cream, and watched it tunnel into the once delicious treat. She returned to Rose’s side, grinning, and held out her cone. “You can finish this,” she giggled. “I’m stuffed.”

“Really!? Daddy, Carla’s letting me have almost her entire cone!”

James was far away, his thoughts clouded by emotion. “That’s wonderful, dear,” he said, and mussed Rose’s hair. Odd, he thought to himself. The pressure had returned to his skull; weaker than before, certainly, but… Back, nonetheless.

That night, Rose had many strange and vivid dreams. She found herself wandering through halls that seemed to have no end and no exits; they existed merely to exist, and served no true purpose. There were no doors or windows, no stairs nor elevators. She wandered down these halls for what surely felt like decades, at least in her mind. The halls twisted and turned, and seemed to writhe, not unlike a worm. Eventually, they grew to be more spacious- or had she simply shrunken down

(become a worm)

Like in Alice in Wonderland? The smaller she got, the more detailed her surroundings became. There were tables now, full of wonderful foods and stationed by faceless yet pleasant people. Beside her walked a golden Labrador retriever, its tongue out and its tail wagging. She petted it, and it nuzzled up against her. On her other side was Carla, holding her hand and guiding her. The tables were stalls now, and there were rides, attractions, wonderful things and all of them free!

(dirt is free, its all a worm needs, worms are free, in dirt they should be)

The dream shifted, and she had the strangest sensation that she had moved. She felt very cold now, at least on the outside, but her heart and her mind were warm and fuzzy, and that was good enough for her. She was still with her pup and her sister, but now they were in their house, gazing at their reflections in the glass door that led to their back yard. Only, it was Carla and Rose’s reflections, not her pup’s. Her pup was outside, gazing back at them.

“Can we let Muggsy in, pretty please?” Rose asked.

Carla beamed at her. “Of course! I knew you’d miss him,” she replied.

Together, they slid the door open.

Time is drawing short, reader. In one month and five days, it will have been seven years since Harlan's tale ended. I must work quickly now, and you- for there is a singular you, somewhere out there, that must see this, so that I might pass the torch, so to speak... Yes, I fear you must learn all that I know, and soon.

Goodnight, reader.

Goodnight.

[[NOTE: Reddit saw it first! All parts of 'My Empire of Dirt' will appear on /r/nosleep prior to appearing on my Prose Page!]]