No response, but they're unlocked, so... She heads in, then wrinkles her nose and sets her basket down to prop open the door. The place needs the air; the laundromat feels like a sauna. There's no hum of air conditioning, and the TV's cut off, so... Maybe they did lose power?

Well, there's only one good way to find out, given there's still no one responding to her. She's been here a couple of times (the laundry machine breaks a lot, and last winter the pipes burst and flooded the basement), but it's been a couple months. Still... 

She knows the laundromat's public areas are more or less an L-shape, with the front as the base of the L. There's six vertical-loading washing machines and a deeply uncomfortable plastic chair bench up here. At the back's the dryers and the more expensive side-loading machines. At least one table's somewhere, but she doesn't remember exactly where. There's a change machine and vending machine right before the dryers, plus a cork board... Employee's only office in the back right, the emergency exit at the very back...

She tries searching the wall to the right of the door for a lightswitch first – no dice, and she briefly curses herself for not bringing a flashlight. Next to the change machine's her next best guess – that or the office, but they're near each other, so.

Lily starts carefully walking to the back, not liking how dark it is; the streetlight outside's finally given up the ghost.

She finds the change machine, the bulletin board next to it... And next to that, a bank of light switches. Thankfully, the first one works, and the lights flick on. Finally. She was sick of the dark, and of her hair constantly falling in her face as she tried to squint at her feet – her last elastic broke, and she hasn't had a chance to get a new one.

She tucks her hair behind her ear again, turning around.

There's a guy, maybe a few years older than her, lurking over near the office.

He pulls the door shut, sharply; the sound it makes is a little loud.

She does not jump. Really. Anyone reading who noticed her startle was imagining things. 

She does, however, say after only a moment's pause, "Oh, hey, do you work here? I wanted to do laundry."

"We're closed."

"Well, your sign says you're open, your electricity works, and I need to do laundry."

"And... Look, dude, I get you probably don't want to be here. I don't want to be here either. I'll do my laundry, I won't break anything, and then I'll be out of your hair. I don't care if you watch TV or whatever."

"...Fine. Don't go into the office or out the back."

"Wasn't planning on it."

"Do you have a door stop?" She gestures at the open front door. "Or working air?"

He turns and fiddles with a thermostat by the office door; there's a thump and rattle as the air conditioning kicks in. He then heads back towards and past her, shouldering her out of his way. He doesn't say anything else to her as he stalks towards the front, kicking her laundry basket inside so he can close the door –

But then he turns to her, says, "That machine's my clothing. Don't touch it," with a gesture at the machine nearest him (which is currently off) –

And then he heads out the front door, slamming it behind him.

Okay. Fine. 

...Lily was an asshole, and she'll probably regret that when she's less exhausted and overheated and stressed, at least in terms of 'that was a totally unnecessary bridge to burn.'

But something in the air here – and by 'something' she means the heat – has her temper on edge, so she doesn't regret it just yet. She's exhausted, too, she's been awake over twenty four hours, and she's starting to see things out of the corner of her eye.

Nothing's changing. Nothing else was here. It's fine it's normal she's not going crazy –

...Deep breaths. She needs to take deep breaths. She's okay; she's got this. She's just tired.

Okay.

She doesn't touch anything that she was told not to touch. She just takes her clothes to the washer furthest from the dude's, counts how much change she has – makes a face, and then triages so she's just washing what she needs most, and what'll fit okay in one of those tiny dryers, especially since she just knows these are going to need two dry cycles... She can dry things in the apartment, though. She's done it a couple times; all she needs is an open window, a curtain road with the curtain pulled off, and some hangars.

Her roommate might get kinda pissed at her for leaving the window open if tomorrow's gonna be as hot as today, though. (Or today as hot as yesterday. Whatever. She hates the passage of time.)

Still... It's fine if her uniform dry a little wonky. No one checks night shift; she's gotten away with a sufficiently non-ratty black shirt and sweatpants before the last time she crit failed at laundry, and no one commented. So those can dry in the closed window with the fan running. So her actual school clothes, the ones that matter, and her scrubs for clinicals can go in the dryer – they'll actually get dry that way, or they should at least, and it'll save her some money... 

Sorting is a bit soothing, actually, and she finds loose change in one of her pants pockets, when added to what she's saving from being skimpy with dryers it's by her count $2.36 – still not enough for an entire washer plus dryer load of more laundry, especially since most of it isn't even quarters, but maybe she can get a cold drink from the vending machine. It'd be fiscally irresponsible, but...

She sits down on the shitty bench as her laundry starts. Her feet start throbbing more, for some reason.

She doesn't have much money, is the problem. Not enough to waste on an overpriced vending machine.

The other problem is that she's fucking hungry and thirsty and overheated and she wants some caffeine, damn it. Probably not a great idea if she wants to go to sleep at a reasonable hour, but when has Lily ever been reasonable?

So. Yeah. Vending machine.

It isn't by the change machine and bulletin board, apparently. She guesses she misremembered? It's at the back, between the emergency exit door and the TV – which has somehow turned itself back on, the screen full of static. Ugh. Whatever. 

She heads over, squinting at the prices. Not a lot of good options... But there's canned coffee, and it's such a bad idea, it's the most expensive option, the label under it reading '2:20$' – handwritten because why not, and apparently they use colons instead of periods wherever laundromat dude is from. 

She has just enough, though, and she's so tempted. Sue her. Unfortunately the damn thing only takes quarters, so there's going to be another trip back and forth...

The TV's bothering her. Flickering. Weird. Catching the static out of the corner of her eye is making her jumpy. It keeps looking like the static is eating the entire object. So she turns to it, leans over its table, and taps the side, hard. That doesn't resolve the image.

There's weird shapes in the static, almost words, almost snakes... She really doesn't like it, and laundromat dude isn't here, so.

She turns it off.

(She ignores the things that were not written on the side of the vending machine just now. They didn't exist. She didn't read them. She's fine.)

She heads back to the bulletin board and the machine labeled 'CHANGE'

– Which is what it's always said.

She reaches into her pockets, and everything feels surreal but that's just the late hour getting to her, and she feeds her dimes and nickels and pennies into it, until she's reached fifty cents, until it should spit out two measly quarters, which it does, the coins clattering loudly in the still air. Which is what it was always going to do. Which is what it's always done.

Sane girls don't see writing on the walls. Sane girls don't see tar where none exists. Sane girls don't look at 'CHANGE' and mistake it for 'MEAT.'

Sane girls probably don't work night shift as ED techs while during nursing school in the day. Sane girls also don't wait until the full moon to do their laundry.

Whatever. She really fucking needs that coffee. She takes the quarters and heads back to the vending machine. 

It's surprisingly good coffee. 

Of course, while she's taking the first few sips, something bangs loudly in the front of the laundromat. She's too professional to spill her coffee, at least. She does however hide most of her body behind the rack of dryers, peeking out to see... She's pretty sure it's actually the washing machine. She's gotten way too jumpy. She heads to the front, but... It isn't her machine maling the noise. Hers is still humming along.

It's the laundromat guy's. The thing's rattling badly, dark sludge bubbling out of it. It smells weird, almost familiar. Dusty, maybe. 

She takes a long sip of her coffee while she stares at it. Probably she shouldn't mess with it? Even if it is obnoxiously loud... She peers at the timer, but it says no time left, so the thing must be broken since it's still sloshing about...

It calms down a little. She drinks more of her coffee. With everything bubbling out, she really doesn't feel like messing with the machine's contents...

And then it starts back up. She sighs, chugs the last delicious dregs of her coffee, and then she sets the bottle down on the bench thing. Probably best to unplug it... 

She tries to shove the machine forward a bit, enough she can reach behind to the plug. It's heavy, whatever the fuck is in it sloshing and thudding around and threatening to unbalance the entire thing. She gets it moved out though, before dropping to her knees so she can reach behind...

She gets her hand around the power cord, and nothing reaches back for her, because everything is normal nothing weird is happening it's just muddy clothes –

She startles anyways, yanking the power cord out and then falling back, scrambling away from the machine, getting to her feet – grabbing the empty glass bottle – 

The washing machine is inert, still, a trail of what can only be mud down the front, she's freaking out for nothing –

She isn't though. It can hardly be called nothing. 

The washing machine thuds, skids, once. Twice. 

She reaches for the front door – it's fucking locked, why is it locked, she has a paperclip somewhere but she doesn't have time –

The machine falls over. The lid opens, a dark tarry fluid that is certainly not mud oozing out of it.

From the not-mud, a skull appears. White, the body it's attached to twisted, grown. It's too large to be a human's skull; it can't possibly be anything else.

It's pulsing, its entire being rippling with static, and as it pushes itself up on its arms – its legs don't move – it squelches and lirches, movements not entirely in line with reality. Like a recording of itself, with half the frames burnt out.

There's the emergency exit – she should've sprinted as soon as she realized the front was locked, she's stupid, and now that thing's in between her and her only way out – 

The washing machines form a little island in the middle – it's near the top though, if she runs past it it'll reach her –

Lily runs up buildings for fun.

She jumps on the bench – pushes off, lands on top of a washer, it overbalances but she keeps going, she can't stop –

It follows her.

It's fast.

An overly ambitious puddle of bone and static and tar has no fucking right to be this fast.

She almost makes it, though. She gets to the back wall of dryers – has to slow to dodge around them –

A hand as strong as inevitability wraps around her ankle. 

She falls. Her outstretched hand brushes the door – misses the push-bar – she twists even as she collapses, swings the bottle still in her hand hard.

It collides against the thing's skull.

It doesn't seem to notice. It pulls at Lily's ankle, looming over her.

She bares her teeth as fear turns to rage.

It bares its teeth too, mouth dripping open... 

And then all she sees is green.

 

 

THE END

 

 

OF

CHAPTER

ONE