Tomorrow's Light
Written by Drew Clements
Conceptualized by Drew Clements and Bryan Hester
(Part Five - IV)

“One large cheese and pineapple for Hawthorne?” The teenage boy asked, holding the side of the box up so that he could see the label.
The guy had arrived just in time; ten minutes after Joey had left-or disappeared. The food would hopefully settle her stomach and let her relax a little with the movie.
“That’s me. How much?” She asked.
“Eleven dollars and twenty-two cents,” He smiled, getting a good look at her. The skin under his eyes was unnaturally raw; it looked as though he had rubbed the area for hours. The whites were a pinkish color, just a shade lighter than that of the irritated skin.
The dead carcass and feces smell permeated the air once again. It was quite nasty. The wind wasn’t blowing, so she wasn’t quite sure where the smell could be coming from. Maybe it wasn’t Joey that was stinking up the place? What were the chances of that same smell occurring with two different people?
She returned the smile, trying not to let her disgust show. “Hold on one sec.”
“Hey, do you know whose car this is?” The guy asked before she turned away.
“Nah, not quite sure,” Tomorrow smiled.
“Well, I’m gonna turn it off.”
“Suit yourself!”
She ran to the kitchen and grabbed some money from the counter and hurried back.
Something was wrong. As she approached the door, which she had left wide open, the pizza guy was gone. Her nostrils flared as she picked up the scent of the pizza; the wretched smell had disappeared. He did mention turning off Joey’s Jeep. She stepped out onto the porch and looked toward the still-running vehicle; there was no one there.
Tomorrow looked down and saw the box of pizza laying on the porch, half out of the thermal sleeve it was carried in. Fortunately the pizza had not spilled out.
She looked further into the neighborhood. To the left she saw nothing out of the ordinary, to the right, the same. Her nostrils flared again. This time the strong dead smell nearly had her gagging.
“Geez! Someone needs to take out their garbage. That must be it!”
She picked the box up and its sleeve and went back inside.
“Tomorrow Hawthorne’s house-the place of disappearing men,” She held the pizza in one hand and took one last look through her yard and the neighbors’ as she slowly stepped back inside.
Walking to the kitchen, she wondered why anyone would run away, leaving this. It’s not like the guy could go back to the pizza place empty handed. She placed the pizza on the counter nearest the stove in the kitchen.
She sniffed the thermal sleeve. Immediately she was overtaken by a horrible smell, although different from the one she experienced just a minute ago at the front door, yet still strong. In her mind she imagined some stinky troll that lived under a bridge somewhere could be the only source of the foul odor.
The pizza itself, however, smelled like heaven. She opened the lid and pulled a slice free. As she held it high, so the cheese could drip toward her mouth, her left eye glanced out of the kitchen window, which was situated right above the oven. The moon was bright and high, just as she’d seen before.
Her eyes then wandered to the digital clock built into the oven.
“6:35… you’re late mystery man.”
She smiled.
Two hours and half a pizza later, Tomorrow held her stomach and lurched up the stairs. She generally didn’t eat a whole lot, but when she did, her stomach told her in a hundred different pains.
Once in her room, she threw herself down onto her bed. She stared up at the ceiling, wondering why the person that had left her the note hadn’t showed. She needed answers to all these questions.
She glanced at the clock on her bedside table.
“Sixteen-year-old Tomorrow Hawthorne, alone on a Friday night, decides to get to sleep early,” She smiled.
Her bed seemed unusually comfortable and her body, unusually fatigued.
“I’ve lounged around all evening. Why am I this tired? My body feels like its run a marathon!”
Her eyes closed and she found herself a million miles away in an instant.


A violent spasm in her left arm brought Tomorrow out of her sleep.
“Okay, I’m awake.”
She watched her left arm twitch. Tomorrow rationalized that she must have fallen asleep on it; that adequately explained the twitching… didn’t it?
The shaking grew more and more violent, making her entire body tremor. Soon her right arm was doing it too.
“What the hell?” She shouted.
Her legs joined in. She watched as her pajama pants danced with the chaotic motion of her legs; it was if she had a million roaches on her body and she was trying to get them off.
Her vision soon began shifting as her head jerked from side to side, straining every muscle in her neck. The thrashing was like being in a car accident over and over again. She was sure her head would snap and the skin would tear. She was almost right…
A million knives gouged their way under her skin, attempting to find a way out through the other side. Finally, they did-blood erupted from her pores. Small patches of skin peeled and curled, like shards of scraped wood flaking from the sharp edge of an invisible knife.
All she wanted to do was scream, but the only sound that came from her throat was a sickening gag. She could taste the spices from the pizza gurgling in the back of her throat; they were mixed with the copper of blood and they both threatened to come up.
She tried to concentrate on willing the pain away. It was a futile effort on her part. It had overtaken her. The shaking and jerking-it was an attack. The bleeding… a nightmare.
One instant she was on the bed-the sheets soaked in crimson, the next she found herself on all fours on the floor. By this time her vision had blurred so much that she could see nothing. She could feel the tears erupting like a smashed fire hydrant, but beyond that, nothing.
All senses but her hearing were dulled and, even then, she wished that it were too. Cracking and tearing, like a starved person plunging their hands into a cooked turkey, was all that filled her remaining sense. It was sickening. She wanted to vomit-it would surely be a relief. Soon, she did. The hot liquid spewed forth, covering her arms. The flow seemed to never end.
Her body arched involuntarily into positions she never believed humanly possible. As it did, her limbs flailed about, knocking over her bedside table and lamp, thrashing the full-length curtain from her giant floor-to-ceiling window, and sending the volatile stomach fluids on her arms in every direction. Framed pictures, the television, posters… they were all covered with the chunky stuff.
Then the world took pity on her; the room went black around her, just as it had earlier when she had fallen asleep, except this time it was her consciousness giving up, not from exhaustion, but from the pain.
“One large cheese and pineapple for Hawthorne?” The teenage boy asked, holding the side of the box up so that he could see the label.
The guy had arrived just in time; ten minutes after Joey had left-or disappeared. The food would hopefully settle her stomach and let her relax a little with the movie.
“That’s me. How much?” She asked.
“Eleven dollars and twenty-two cents,” He smiled, getting a good look at her. The skin under his eyes was unnaturally raw; it looked as though he had rubbed the area for hours. The whites were a pinkish color, just a shade lighter than that of the irritated skin.
The dead carcass and feces smell permeated the air once again. It was quite nasty. The wind wasn’t blowing, so she wasn’t quite sure where the smell could be coming from. Maybe it wasn’t Joey that was stinking up the place? What were the chances of that same smell occurring with two different people?
She returned the smile, trying not to let her disgust show. “Hold on one sec.”
“Hey, do you know whose car this is?” The guy asked before she turned away.
“Nah, not quite sure,” Tomorrow smiled.
“Well, I’m gonna turn it off.”
“Suit yourself!”
She ran to the kitchen and grabbed some money from the counter and hurried back.
Something was wrong. As she approached the door, which she had left wide open, the pizza guy was gone. Her nostrils flared as she picked up the scent of the pizza; the wretched smell had disappeared. He did mention turning off Joey’s Jeep. She stepped out onto the porch and looked toward the still-running vehicle; there was no one there.
Tomorrow looked down and saw the box of pizza laying on the porch, half out of the thermal sleeve it was carried in. Fortunately the pizza had not spilled out.
She looked further into the neighborhood. To the left she saw nothing out of the ordinary, to the right, the same. Her nostrils flared again. This time the strong dead smell nearly had her gagging.
“Geez! Someone needs to take out their garbage. That must be it!”
She picked the box up and its sleeve and went back inside.
“Tomorrow Hawthorne’s house-the place of disappearing men,” She held the pizza in one hand and took one last look through her yard and the neighbors’ as she slowly stepped back inside.
Walking to the kitchen, she wondered why anyone would run away, leaving this. It’s not like the guy could go back to the pizza place empty handed. She placed the pizza on the counter nearest the stove in the kitchen.
She sniffed the thermal sleeve. Immediately she was overtaken by a horrible smell, although different from the one she experienced just a minute ago at the front door, yet still strong. In her mind she imagined some stinky troll that lived under a bridge somewhere could be the only source of the foul odor.
The pizza itself, however, smelled like heaven. She opened the lid and pulled a slice free. As she held it high, so the cheese could drip toward her mouth, her left eye glanced out of the kitchen window, which was situated right above the oven. The moon was bright and high, just as she’d seen before.
Her eyes then wandered to the digital clock built into the oven.
“6:35… you’re late mystery man.”
She smiled.
Two hours and half a pizza later, Tomorrow held her stomach and lurched up the stairs. She generally didn’t eat a whole lot, but when she did, her stomach told her in a hundred different pains.
Once in her room, she threw herself down onto her bed. She stared up at the ceiling, wondering why the person that had left her the note hadn’t showed. She needed answers to all these questions.
She glanced at the clock on her bedside table.
“Sixteen-year-old Tomorrow Hawthorne, alone on a Friday night, decides to get to sleep early,” She smiled.
Her bed seemed unusually comfortable and her body, unusually fatigued.
“I’ve lounged around all evening. Why am I this tired? My body feels like its run a marathon!”
Her eyes closed and she found herself a million miles away in an instant.


A violent spasm in her left arm brought Tomorrow out of her sleep.
“Okay, I’m awake.”
She watched her left arm twitch. Tomorrow rationalized that she must have fallen asleep on it; that adequately explained the twitching… didn’t it?
The shaking grew more and more violent, making her entire body tremor. Soon her right arm was doing it too.
“What the hell?” She shouted.
Her legs joined in. She watched as her pajama pants danced with the chaotic motion of her legs; it was if she had a million roaches on her body and she was trying to get them off.
Her vision soon began shifting as her head jerked from side to side, straining every muscle in her neck. The thrashing was like being in a car accident over and over again. She was sure her head would snap and the skin would tear. She was almost right…
A million knives gouged their way under her skin, attempting to find a way out through the other side. Finally, they did-blood erupted from her pores. Small patches of skin peeled and curled, like shards of scraped wood flaking from the sharp edge of an invisible knife.
All she wanted to do was scream, but the only sound that came from her throat was a sickening gag. She could taste the spices from the pizza gurgling in the back of her throat; they were mixed with the copper of blood and they both threatened to come up.
She tried to concentrate on willing the pain away. It was a futile effort on her part. It had overtaken her. The shaking and jerking-it was an attack. The bleeding… a nightmare.
One instant she was on the bed-the sheets soaked in crimson, the next she found herself on all fours on the floor. By this time her vision had blurred so much that she could see nothing. She could feel the tears erupting like a smashed fire hydrant, but beyond that, nothing.
All senses but her hearing were dulled and, even then, she wished that it were too. Cracking and tearing, like a starved person plunging their hands into a cooked turkey, was all that filled her remaining sense. It was sickening. She wanted to vomit-it would surely be a relief. Soon, she did. The hot liquid spewed forth, covering her arms. The flow seemed to never end.
Her body arched involuntarily into positions she never believed humanly possible. As it did, her limbs flailed about, knocking over her bedside table and lamp, thrashing the full-length curtain from her giant floor-to-ceiling window, and sending the volatile stomach fluids on her arms in every direction. Framed pictures, the television, posters… they were all covered with the chunky stuff.
Then the world took pity on her; the room went black around her, just as it had earlier when she had fallen asleep, except this time it was her consciousness giving up, not from exhaustion, but from the pain.

 

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