Hannah tapped the CO2 and Air Quality monitor with the top of her broken nail.
“Must be broken,” she said, holding down the reset button.
“Cheap Alibaba rubbish,” grumbled a voice behind her.
Hannah shrieked, turned, and instantly burst out laughing at the sight of her ex-boyfriend. He wore a mesh trucker cap, a white t-shirt and khaki shorts.
“You gave your keys back,” she said, wide eyed and mouth slightly open.
In the window behind him, snow fell in cotton-like clumps and the light reflected patterns of blue and gold, a magical, almost romantic sight.
“I’ve thought about you,” Avi said, looking at the tiles under his sandals.
His white skin blended with socks. Hannah still hadn't recovered from the shock of his sudden appearance. She gripped the handle of the oven door and scanned the room. Her head was spinning.
“You forgot I’m still connected to the smart home devices?” Avi smiled at her, “I got all the alerts. I had to see if you burned the house down. I tried to knock.”
Hannah’s ash blond locks swayed as she shook her head.
“How long were they going off,” she questioned him, incredulously as they walked across the single-wide trailer built long before they were born. The floorboards under the heavily brown carpet creaked. Hannah got their reflection and remembered thinking they were too beautiful to live there. But, grandma insisted they get on the property ladder.
“You're here,” said Hannah, defensively offering Avi a seat at their couch, “Might as well sit, right? Make sure your car is running. I can't believe you wore that!”
The unpredictable weather always caught her ex-boyfriend off guard.
“There is something I need to tell you, but you're not going to like it,” said Avi.
He clicked his fob, but a knock interrupted them, radiating through the thin walls and rattling the light.
“Uncle Peter!” Hannah threw herself against the broad man's plaid shirt and embraced her. His aftershave smelled like diesel fuel, but men didn't need to have a pleasant aroma, just a memorable one. She was wiping the mirth from her face as Avi and Peter formally greeted each other like tree trunks with branches barely touching at their ends.
Peter’s deep voice boomed as he explained how he'd taken time off and been in town, but something black passed by the window. The room fell silent.
“What was it?” asked Hannah.
The men just stood fixed in the room starring where the figure had been.
“This is unfortunate,” Peter began to say, but another knock distracted Hannah.
She pranced to the door and peeked through the grimy keyhole. Her friend Lana stood in the powdery snow rising to her ankles.
“I got here as soon as I could,” she said, locking eyes with Peter and Avi.
A petite woman with a warm smile, Lana never failed to answer her messages or listen to her talk for hours. She'd shared her dreams with the woman in a way even Avi never could know.
“Wait?” Said Hannah, grinning fiercely at the small crowd, “You're not on our smart home system. I haven't seen you in–” she furrowed her brow.
But, again something moved outside distracting her from her guests. Then, a beep started her, drawing her attention back to the kitchen.
“Did you guys not see that?” She asked.
“Wake up, Hannah,” said Lana, reaching for her hand, “You know you must ignore it. It's like Drake at school. Ignore him. He finds someone else to pick on.”
“You know what it is?” She asked, as she went to part the plastic blinds, carefully.
They were as old as the house. She didn't see the shadow. Outside, a pale slope cascaded down the hill. The road to her home had been covered leaving only a slight impression. It made her eyes ache to stare too long.
“Where did you guys park?” she asked, “I don't even see the tire marks.”
The black mist rolled across her view and stopped above the ground, billowing dark clouds, emitting the acrid scent of asphalt. She recoiled.
The three faces of her guest didn't move. Hannah’s breath quickened as she started to wonder if she was having a nightmare. But, all the rooms seemed fixed in the right position and her awareness of the trailer was too sharp.
“It's a plasmoid, honey,” said her uncle, finally reaching out to comfort her.
She sighed deeply, but it felt like her heart bruised her chest from the inside and adrenaline coursed through her veins like slalom skiers.
“Not a nice one either,” Avi laughed.
Hannah shot him a sideways glance heaped with her scorn. Once a cheater, always a cheater.
“I've never heard of them,” she said.
Peter tilted his fat bearded head, “Ninety-nine percent of all matter is plasma. It has intelligent forms. It operates in more dimensions than physical matter. You always liked science, didn't you?”
Hannah dropped to the couch with a creak and pulled her cold hands across her face.
“And you read about this somewhere? she asked, then shook her head, “I've got places to go.”
“You're already there, Pigeon,” said Avi.
“You don't call me that!” Hannah roared back, definitely, and she rubbed her face again.
It kept itching, so she pulled at it fiercely and when she open her eyes again they were covered by one of her blankets. She gasped and bolted to her feet, marching through the rickety single-wide shaking the walls, stumbling over the laundry, and there in the kitchen stood her ex, her uncle, and Lana as still as portraits fixed on her, patiently waiting.
“I am dreaming,” Hannah said, though her confidence flaked away with each word she spoke.
“That's what the dead do,” Lana shrugged.
Her friend reached out slowly, but Hannah pulled away. Her uncle and Avi seemed serene.
“Don't let it in,” said Lana.
The mass of black plasma oozed across the window and began to pour through a crack in the glass. Smoke dropped slowly to the floor and pooled in the shag of the brown carpet.
Hannah gripped her thin waist through the nightshirt she wore and her eyes bounced from the ground to the faces of the three guests.
She choked on her tongue as she screamed.
Again. Her eyes flew open, and she darted into the living room. Hannah hit her face. Her eyes flew open. Her blanket covered her face. She ran to the kitchen. Black smoke gathered. Again. Eyes open. Guests surrounded by the dark shimmering substance of the plasmoid. It changed shape. It had form, but nothing familiar.
“You're all dead she screamed,” as the plasmoid filled the room.
Hannah closed her eyes and the creature’s red face appeared, “So are you,” it laughed, disappearing into fractal laden blur as the cold mist penetrated to the final depths of her limp form and void took her.
Carrie Bailey Allen writes science fiction about corporate space colonization as OA Allen and blogs about self-publishing at Peevish Penman. She's passionate about coffee, meditation, and inner alchemy. Though she's been writing for 15 years, Allen just discovered horror.
This is interesting. I saw you have one other guest author post and I was thinking this is leading to a bigger collaboration. Are you doing a co-authored story??