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Sinkhole: A Short Horror Story

Updated: Sep 30, 2021

Billy Brink is losing his wife, children, and he's about to lose his house... but you'll never anticipate what he'll lose next.

The Kitchen. Muddy floor tiles. Low lamp light. Empty cupboards. Shattered glass. Dirty dished sink. Eviscerated envelopes enveloping a table. An ash heaped ashtray. A man sifting through a sea of debt. Billy Brink.

Billy is a middle-aged man, bearing a wrinkly, brittle face. His curly silver hair is matted like a seagull's nest. His blue-white pajama t-shirt and bottoms are tarps, weathered and weary. While angrily perusing the Leaning Tower of Pisa that is his bank statements, he's smoking a cigarette, whom he allows to grow like Pinocchio's nose, and drinking from a chipped mug full of rum-coffee labeled, "World's Greatest Dad." When he finally reaches the bottom of the pile, he stares blankly at its center.


After he collects his thoughts, he peers through a window beside him and at his jungle-lawn. His imagination soon breaks up the screaming, black clouds and a jubilant sun returns to paint the sky blue. The tall grass shrinks, a woman, and two young children spawn. The woman, his lively wife, Sheryl, dances in a circle with two chuckling children, his beloved Mark and Macy. He fantasizes of a time that's come to pass. Before all the drinking, smoking, shouting, gambling. A time when he wasn't...


But he can't think of that now, there's too many pieces to collect and reassemble. The image of his wife and children fades, the acrimonious clouds return, and the tall grass reshapes. He smears his cigarette into his fragmented ashtray, stands like a soldier, grabs his empty, chipped mug, and walks over to his sink.

Billy finally arrives at his sink, after moving like a sloth, and attempts to wash out his filthy mug. But this task is anything but a simple feat. In the middle of his sink, lies the scariest game of Jenga. Though, he still tries to clean his mug and while reaching for the container of navy-blue dish detergent, he knocks over the pile and it becomes a hailstorm as it clashes into the tiles below. For a moment, he stares at the mess. Then, he becomes a wolf, stomping and howling at the pale ceiling above.

"Fuck! Shit! Piss! When will I ever get a break, when will I ever get a break? Huh, God, when? When? When? When?" He demands.

No reply.

Like a slinky, he sinks down to the floor and begins to cry. I mustn't cry, not now. Not when there's so much to do. He tells himself, at least for a split second, and tries to pick up some of the pieces scattered on the floor to dump into the overflowing garbage bin. While cradling a cracked plate in his hands, one of the jagged edges make a surgical incision into one of his wrists, causing him to jolt and wail like a ghoul.

"Ouch!" He yells.

Then, he rushes over to the sink. But before turning on the faucet, he allows his bleeding wrist to drip down the drain. Drip... Drip... Drip... The blood smoothly moves along his flesh like red wine along a tablecloth.

"Is this what you want? Huh? Is this what you want of me, Lord? To end it, here and now? Because I just might. I'll let my blood run till this sink overflows." Billy says.

But he doesn't. He shakes his head and quickly reaches for a wad of paper towels to slow down the bleeding. While reaching for the paper towels, a hissing voice, echoing from down the drain stops him in mid-motion.

"Billy... Billy... Billy Brinkssss." The voice says.

Without hesitation, he grabs a couple sheets of paper towels, turns around, and begins to run away. But he stops once again. The voice changes.

"Billy... Billy Brinkssss... It'ssss me, Ssssheryl..." The voice says, resembling Sheryl's high-pitched voice. Billy turns toward the sink, runs to it, and grabs its edges as he peers into the seemingly endless dark hole.

"Sheryl! Oh, God! Sheryl, baby! Is that you? I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry for everything. For the drinking, the gambling, the fighting! I want you back, come back, come back! Sheryl!" He screams and his tears fall like faucet droplets down the drain.

"Billy... Billy... Billy." The voice says, this time becoming more distant.

"Don't go! Please, don't go Sheryl! Stay, stay with me Hunny!" Billy screams once more.

But the voice doesn't stay. In fact, it...


Then, a gargling sound takes the voice's place.

"Sheryl?" Billy asks.

Something sounding like the air in a vent courses speedily through the drainpipes, causing the sink to shake like a broken blender being put on its highest speed. Billy backs away, but not quick enough.

Shlump! A black and blue hand and arm with black talons extends from the drain and wraps itself around Billy's face. This immediately causes him to panic, but of course, no one hears his frantic blubbering.


Billy continues to kick, scream, and attempts to remove the hand. But it doesn't budge. Then, the voice returns, this time resembling Mike and Macy, his fraternal twins.

"Let's play, Daddy..." The voices say simultaneously.

"Mike... Macy?" Billy's last two words.

Suddenly, the hand's grip tightens and begins to pull him into the drain. As his body is dragged down, deep into the musty pipes, his bones break like twigs. He becomes a mass of blood, red Jell-O.

After snaking through an array of pipes, he finally arrives at his final destination and exits into a sea of red. Strangely, Billy's body returns to its original shape, the hand loosens its grip, and eventually, releases. Billy Brinks. Suspended. Sinking. Losing Consciousness. Broken. Drowning. Fading. Isolated. He attempts to scream one last time but can't. Besides, there would be no reply.

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