Does a monster lurk in the outhouse, or is it her vivid imagination?
THE PIT
Betty Ann Damms
Stupid! Stupid to have been talked into coming to this cabin in the middle of the Pennsylvania woods. In the winter. With her husband, his hunting buddy, and his buddy’s huntress wife. Oh, Helen appreciated the game, and had learned to prepare some tasty dishes. But to pull the trigger? Or stalk the poor creatures in the cold, wet woods? Never!
But here she was, chilled to the bone, trying to muster up enough nerve to sit on the cold wooden seat over the pit. Just pushing the lid up with her boot had sent a wave of revulsion through her. Even though her husband and his buddy had installed a space age, composting toilet here at the camp; the closest thing to a house toilet; it terrified her. The pit loomed like a Black Hole that threatened to eat her alive; and she shivered. If only she didn’t have to go; she’d be in the cabin with the wood stove, enjoying the rich, dark molasses fruitcake she’d baked.
But she’d held it as long as she could, and she shone the flashlight into the hole and recoiled. Nasty! Maybe she’d go out and find a bush. But the icy sleet would make it unbearable, and she’d probably catch pneumonia. So she carefully lined the seat with paper, telling herself it was no different than the toilet at home. But there she could see the bottom of the porcelain bowl, and could flush away the mess. Here? Who knew what lurked below.
The urge insisted; she undid her zipper and pushed her pants down. Immediately, goose bumps covered her bare legs; from fear or the cold, she didn’t know. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth; then, holding the flashlight in a death grip, she backed onto the seat and gingerly sat down, the paper crinkling under her. Oh, sweet release!
Suddenly, something grabbed her from below, claws with suction cups digging into her buttocks. She shrieked and dropped the flashlight, plunging the outhouse into darkness. She screeched as the creature pulled at her; loud scratching below in the deep, dark, disgusting pit. Howling in terror, she tried to shove herself off the seat. The creature pulled harder. She shrieked again, knowing she was going to die.
Bill banged on the door, shouting, “Helen, are you all right?” He yanked on the door. The wooden latch popped off the nail and the door burst open. Her face was flooded with light from the flashlight in her husband’s hand. His strong hands. His safe hands. Helen was sitting on the toilet, screaming, gripping the seat, tears running down her face. Her husband grabbed the front of her coat and pulled her to her feet.
Bill gathered his wife in his arms and held her until her screams died down to a whimper. He soothed, “it’s all right. I’m here.” Finally her trembling turned into an uncontrollable shiver, and she yanked at her pants.
“Something grabbed me,” Helen gasped. Bill shone the flashlight beam around the outhouse. “Honey, there’s nothing here.” She trembled. He shone the light into the pit. “See? Nothing there. It’s just an outhouse.”
“Something was in there. It grabbed me,” she insisted.
“Really Helen, it’s your imagination,” Bill said, trying not to laugh at his terrified wife. She started to cry again and Bill pulled her to him and said, “I’m sorry, Honey. Come on. Everything’s all right. Let’s go have some of your cake. Joannie’s made coffee and Peter wants to play pinochle.”
“Okay,” she said and snuffled. “But I’m not sitting on this thing again. I’ll use a bucket and bring it out.”
“Whatever makes you happy,” Bill said, and kissed his wife.
Helen leaned into him. “Can we get out of here?”
Bill retrieved Helen’s flashlight and, when they left, darkness enveloped the outhouse. And in the murk the Clivus Moltrum* creature lay waiting.
Too Funny. I think all of us have been afraid of the unknown at some point in our life. The dark, strange noises, deep water and yes, even outhouses. When I was young and had to sit down in an outhouse, my greatest fear was snakes- I tried to watch between my legs to make sure nothing was moving. Great Story.
Nice bit of science fiction-horror. It isn't often that the monster is a technological innovation. Yet, I remember as a kid having to use outhouses once in a while. I don't recall freezing in one but in those days I moved very fast and didn't have to sit very long. The stink alone would cause some to faint and conjure up some kind of devil in the place. I remember most during the summer when the flies would also be unbearable.
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