Nheshe (Too Jung to Die, Part II)

*KNOCK...KNOCK...KNOCK*

Andrew finally worked up enough courage to peek through the window.

Outside stood an androgynous looking man that appeared to have just been through a plastic surgery nightmare.

“Sir? Sir? Can you please open up? I know it's very late and I may look strange, but please, please give me a chance to speak with you. It's important...I honestly mean you no harm.”

Given the desert atmosphere he lived in and the fact that he'd already crossed the threshold of showing his visible presence, Andrew had no choice but to open the door.

“Oh, sir! Thank you, thank you sir!”

The “man”'s voice had a strange echo, as though his twin vocal cords were individually battling to be heard, each in their own distinct tone.

As the strange person swiftly pushed his way through the front door and gently shut it behind him, he burst forth a sigh (practically a gasp) of relief.

“I truly apologize for barging in here, but I'm afraid I didn't have much of a choice...”

The static of Art Bell's radio program fizzled out as Andrew's trembling hand made a (failed) nonchalant attempt to turn the volume knob to minimum during his strategic backsteps towards the recliner. “...what is this?!” he squawked.

“Oh my, you've been listening to Mr. Bell's program, haven't you?”

“What do you care?”

“That means you must have heard that desperate rant from my father.”

“Your...father?”

“Well, he's not a 'father' in the sense that you know the term...but he made me. And as it so happens, he ran off before I was finished.”

“Would you mind explaining...”

“My name is Nheshe. Regrettably I don't know too many details about how it all works, since I'm theoretically little more than a child, but I am what you would call a “work in progress.” My father, Dr. Renfield, was working on what they call a “Cook” of me before he was let go. However, before withdrawing he set me free, even though I had no desire to leave. He betrayed me...left me incomplete...I had so much yet to learn, and see...my skin isn't even done!”

Peach-colored residue dripped from Nheshe's hand as he held it out. Andrew also noticed that the creature's oddly placed eyebrows seemed to be gradually sinking beneath its moist skin.

“Now please, if I could only use your telephone...”

Nheshe frantically turned his gaze in every-which direction, before landing his glowing eyes on what appeared to be a phone-set on the kitchen counter. He approached it with modest urgency.

Andrew statuesquely stood by his recliner, as though his feet were nailed to the floor. The deteriorating atrocity before him was too much to behold. He discreetly inched his left fingers through the ajar drawer in his tea table, grabbing his pistol.

He pointed it towards the greasy, nervous entity, clenching his teeth as he fired.

Nheshe looked furious.

TO BE CONCLUDED...