A Nice Hot Shower

Jeremy stood under the steaming hot water, letting it wash the grit from his feet and hands. He had spent all night on the beach with his friends, being the nerds that they were, casting a spell from a book Leonard had found in an old store. The one they found that they actually had the time and resources for had taken them to the beach. It was kind of like the movie Candyman; the caster summoned a creature from the deep that would kill them. It seemed pretty stupid, but the main difference was the creature only killed you if you didn't provide a suitable sacrifice.

Jeremy felt dumb; he had looked over his shoulder the whole drive home, half expecting to see something climbing up the back of his car. He had managed to creep himself out enough that if not for the fact that he smelled like seaweed and gull crap, he would have skipped the shower and watched TV with the lights on.

"Freaking dork..." He mumbled to himself looking in the little fog-proof mirror that hung in his shower for shaving as he washed his hair. He would make sure to leave spell casting and summoning monsters off his profile on the dating website he frequented. The thought of a cold beer and some late night cable began to replace his misplaced paranoia when he swore he heard a click.

It was faint, barely audible, but he was sure it was there. Great, he thought. Here it is. Some fish man from the deep is here to eat me. He turned the knob that redirected the water from the spout to the shower head halfway to stop the water so he could listen.

Nothing.

He gave it a few long, painful heartbeats, and then turned the water back on. He shook his head at the ridiculousness of it all. Jeremy closed his eyes and faced into the hot streaming water, letting it rinse the shampoo from his head. He could almost taste the cold beer from the huge 24 oz can in the fridge, in a tall frozen mug, with some pretzels, or maybe some beef jerky...

There was a thump, like a footstep. Jeremy froze, suddenly terrified. It's the house, you jackass. Its early fall, the cold weather makes the house contract and it makes popping noises. He held his breath, his heart pounding. The sound didn't repeat.

"Jesus Christ" he whispered. "I am ridiculous." He finished washing his body, and relaxed in the warm water for another minute, just to prove to himself how silly he was being. See? Nothing bad is going to happen, it's not like this is some cheesy story. There is no such thing as a monster from the deep, at least nothing that can walk on land, so you are all set.

Click!

There was no mistaking it, the bathroom door had just shut. Jeremy went through a mental checklist; the window was closed, he'd made sure, so it wasn't the wind. Maybe the heater turned on and the breeze pushed it shut? Or maybe a neighbor's cat got in? Maybe it was one of his friends trying to be "funny".

Maybe it was a fish man from the deep.

Jeremy slowly stopped the water. He couldn't see anything through the opaque shower curtain, but he swore he saw the silhouette of a man standing outside the shower. He realized that second that he was happy he was in the shower, because he just peed himself.

He grabbed his loofa with a long wooden handle, and brandished it like a weapon. He grabbed the shower curtain, steeled his resolve, then after what felt like an eternity, whipped open the curtain and shouted "HA!"

His blood ran cold. There was something there; tall and man -like. He saw the face, it was...

It was a man. It actually looked a lot like his friend Phil; like Phil, he wore mostly black, and a trench coat, he was thin with sharp, angular features. He had the blade-like nose and arched eyebrows that Phil had.

He started to say "Hey Phil, that wasn't very ", but his words were cut off in a strangled, bubbling gasp as the man drove one of Jeremy's cooking knifes deep into his throat. His last thought, looking up from the tub was that it didn't look much like Phil after all.

The killer looked down on the dead man in the tub. Some water still dripped out of the showerhead, causing a pink spatter to spray on the wall every time a drop hit the blood running down the drain. He let out a long, ragged sigh; this would never get old. He was mildly disappointed that it was so quick; he had really hoped for something more dramatic, but the terror-stricken look frozen on the man's face was worth it.

Plus, the real fun came after they died. The act of mutilating, the knowledge the horror of the discovery would bring, the anticipation and imagination that went into the ritual; that was where the real pleasure was. He stared a while longer, imagining what he could do with a nude man in a bathroom, and smiled widely. Richard Ramirez didn't care what gender his victims were, he let his perversion make his decision; so would it be with him.

He remembered a scaling knife he had seen in the drawer where he had stolen the chef's knife he had used to stab the man; the long slender blade would do wonders on a human body. There was almost a lightness to his step, like a kid on his way to an amusement park as he reached for the bathroom door to return to the kitchen.

As he opened it, he was hit by an awful, putrid stink. It was a smell he was familiar with, and one that he did not enjoy; it was the stench of old death. The killer had a quizzical look on his face as he stepped into the hallway, which froze into a mask of surprise. Standing in front of him was something tall, nearly six foot four. Its fingers were webbed, with long sharp talons. It looked like a man, except covered in scales, with wide-set fish like eyes.

The mouth grabbed his attention; it appeared like a human mouth, except filled with needle-sharp teeth an inch long. The thing's hands were outstretched, and the tips of the fingers glowed with a sickly blue light. They wiggled slightly, and the killer was entranced. He had a passing thought of the angler fish from Finding Nemo, then tried to scream when he realized that the glow had moved, and there was a burning pain as the thing's mouth opened to three times what a man's could, and bore him to the floor as it bit deeply where his neck met his shoulder.

In the other room, Jeremy had no idea that the sacrifice he wound up providing was more than adequate; his dead eyes staring up at the ceiling while his killer screamed in terror out in the hall.