Ink Drift - July

The Creep Factor
Issue 12 - Fear
vard and into Tammy’s store.
She stood at the counter, matching receipts
with money she had taken in for the
day.
The door opened. The buzzer warned.
A gust of cold wind swept exhaust and the
smell of frying fish into the narrow store.
The man appeared.
As much as Tammy wanted to see his
inner perfection, she felt the sensation of
having her skin peeled.
She grabbed the money and the receipts,
went into the bathroom, shut the door,
and hid her day’s worth in a bag behind
the paper towels. She looked out the back
window. Except for her Honda, the parking
lot was empty. Her phone was under the
first shelf of the counter. She told herself
she was being ridiculous. It was always the
ordinary-looking men who were rapists and
murderers, not the ones with warped faces
and mismatched body parts.
Tammy recited the affirmation that her
Buddhist friend Qwan had given her: “I see
beauty in all things and in everyone.”
She opened the door. The blood evaporated
from her brain and left her woozy
with fear. “Can, I help you?” she stammered.
He stood in front of the counter, his long
arms stretched from one end almost to the
other, braced, an anchor for his gigantic
head. “I’m looking for a jade ring.” His voice
garbled like nails thrashed about in a garbage
disposal. His pinprick eyes seemed to
enjoy Tammy’s terror.
She thought about lying, but what if he
saw the ring? “I, um, yes. A man’s ring?”
“Yeah. A man’s ring.”
“There’s one in the second case in the
front,” she said, hoping he’d walk away so
she could open the back door. What for? To
run out? And leave him alone in her store?
Stop looking at his appearance, Tammy told
herself.
“I want to try it on.”
Tammy nodded. She hurried from behind
the counter, went around the hanging
mirror and down the west aisle with her key
poised to unlock the case.
He lumbered toward her as if he wore
concrete platforms, his expression smug.
He stood close beside her. Affixed to his
long coat was a metallic odor, iron, or was it
blood?
Tammy reached in and gave him the
ring.
Scars crisscrossed the top of his huge
hands and knuckles. He jammed the ring
onto his pinkie.
She glanced out the front window, hoping
someone would come in.
“How much is it?”
His breath smelled like a jar of old pennies.
“$285.00.”
“Gold.”
“14 carat.”
“Hmm.” He stared at her and massaged
the tip of his middle finger back and forth
over the jade then tapped the stone with his
teeth.
Tammy cringed.
“What’s the best price?” he asked.
“I can take ten percent off.”
“Hmm, $255.00, even.”
“There’s tax.”
“Not with cash,” the man said. He stared
at her. There didn’t seem to be any life coming
from his eyes, not human, more reptilian.
She expected a forked tongue to shoot
out between his lips.
She’d pay the tax. She wanted him out of
her store, out of her life, out of her dreams.
“All right.”
He held out his skillet sized hand—fingers
that looked like they enjoyed pulling
the wings off of sparrows—the gemstone
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