The document remained untouched, and Solomon vegetated before it, his eyes as blank as the screen. In the emptiness, the beast watched him, and Solomon unknowingly stared back. It sat on its haunches, its back bent forward, its arms planted at its sides. Its muscles tensed, its skin straining taut against its body. Its claws dug into the space around it, and it lurched forward.
The computer screen shattered as the beast broke through. The frame of the laptop cracked and split apart, allowing the creature’s torso to follow. The creature was invisible to Solomon, so he only perceived the computer breaking, but he felt the weight of the beast as it struck his body, throwing him up and out of his chair.
Lightning splintered across his eyes as his head hit the hardwood floor. He gasped and then gagged, his lungs filling with the beast’s putrid breath. Solomon struck out with both hands, and each scraped against coarse bone. He held on, his body pinned by empty space. He felt a crushing weight on his stomach and legs. He cried out as a cut crossed his face. Without the sight of a clawed hand, Solomon’s cheek seemed to blossom open.
His cries grew louder as the beast’s teeth sunk into his shoulder. His skin dipped and pooled with blood, swelling wider until the holes met as a river. Solomon scratched at the invisible head before him, the skin of his fingertips peeling along it.
The beast closed its mouth, and Solomon’s right shoulder disappeared. Blood splashed against the creature, painting its snout in red. Seeing the outline of its teeth, Solomon writhed in fear. He could no longer move his right arm, so he pounded against the beast’s skull with his left hand. When his next blow hit a depression in the front of the beast’s head, Solomon dug his hand into it. The beast’s low shriek reverberated through his body. Solomon felt the weight come off of him. Slick with blood, he scrambled to his feet and ran.
He burst through the front door of his home and slammed it behind him. It shuddered as the beast collided against the other side, but it held in its frame. Solomon stepped away slowly and toward the street, his eyes bleary with tears. He shouted for help. His right arm hung uselessly against him, connected by the few ligaments left of his shoulder.
His voice strained as he continued to yell. As the minutes passed and his eyes dried, he realized no one was coming for him. Not the invisible creature nor any help. Solomon was alone.
Silence surrounded him. Under a clouded sky, no bird sang. No car growled in the distance. Solomon turned in place, panic returning to his stomach. There was no one else. Only emptiness.
His skin began to crawl, then to disintegrate. He hissed in pain as sores opened along his arms and hands. He felt the itching sting on his face. The emptiness had followed him, dividing into microscopic beasts. They ate at his exposed body, nibbling and widening the wounds. Solomon cried out as the emptiness began tearing at his eyelids.
He had to escape. He feared the single invisible beast, but he would not survive the millions which burrowed into his skin. He fled from the outside world and back to his home, jerking the door open and falling inside.
Once inside, the biting ceased, but from further within, the beast came alive once more. Solomon could hear furniture topple and scrabbling against the hardwood from the next room. His own feet slipped against the blood on the floor as he clamored forward. He clawed at the walls, propelling himself farther as he heard the footsteps grow closer. He held his breath and dove into the guest bathroom. He kicked the door shut, waiting for the crash. None came.
Whimpering, Solomon lifted himself from the tile and crawled into the bathtub, pulling the sliding glass behind him. He fell against his good shoulder and clenched his eyes shut. The air nipped his ragged body. The drain gurgled as it collected his blood.
The gurgling continued, sucking away at Solomon’s attention. It spiraled into his ears, draining the beating of his heart. The sound trickled through his ear canals and washing over his brain. It pooled out through the other ear.
Solomon hummed to himself, a desperate monotone to fill the space. He struggled to ignore it but could not. He became aware of the emptiness in his head, and the beast took residence in it.
Solomon gripped at his hair and curled into himself. The beast tore between the synapses of his brain, ripping through neurons as if they were party streamers. It scattered neurotransmitters like bullets, punching holes through the neural networks. Solomon groaned and strained to pull himself up. His vision exploded as the beast feasted inside his head.
Solomon’s hand found the water valve and wrenched it to the side. Freezing water erupted from the shower head, blasting Solomon and pushing him against the floor. The sound of the water overcame the gurgling drain and flooded his senses. The water bathed his brain, overcoming the creature inside.
Solomon lay in the tub, allowing the cold to soak his clothes and sink goosebumps into his skin. It rained against his face. His shivered, clutching himself. His head had been hollowed out.
As the water cleansed him, it diluted from a thick red to a sickly pink before returning to its natural clear. The sores faded from his arms, face, and hands. His shoulder pieced itself back together. Past the shower spray, Solomon no longer heard rustling from outside.
He kept the shower on as he dragged himself over the lip of the tub. Puddles seeped from him as he teetered to his feet and held himself on the bathroom sink. When he finally raised his head, he was met with an empty mirror. He saw only the shower door behind him, the running water behind it. The beast made eye contact with Solomon. It cackled.
Solomon’s fist collided against the mirror. He screamed to silence the beast’s laugh. He continued punching, again and again, dislodging each piece of glass. He did not stop until the wood beneath cracked and splintered, digging into his knuckles.
The fragments of the mirror collected in the sink, settling into a reflective pool. Solomon coughed and wheezed as water dripped from his hair. He cradled his ripped hand against his chest. The shower hissed behind him. Drums rumbled in his ears.
His head sunk low as he stared at the shards in the sink. In each piece, he saw himself looking back. Tens of copies of him matched his gaze. Solomon threw up, and nothing came out.