I wake to the wrong sleep paralysis demon on my chest. Mine, Gladys, looks like a microwaved boghag and talks like a 1950s greaser. This guy has a burnt-batch-of-caramel-popcorn aesthetic. A second weight settles on me. I wheeze, squinting through my sleep mask’s gap. “Scram,” Gladys says. “This is my roost.” The other gasps. “You exquisitely grotesque creature.” “Stop tryna sweet-talk me.” “Truly! I’ve never seen a dread queen so garish.” Gladys blushes. “I think I like you, sodapop.” All night, I’m frozen, annoyed, as they flirt and kiss. In the morning, I call my doctor for some f**king Ambien.
Author: Taylor Rae
Taylor Rae
Taylor Rae is a professional mountain troll, hidden away in the mountains of north Idaho. She writes about forgotten gods, lost culture, and spaceships. Her work appears with/is forthcoming with PseudoPod, Flash Fiction Online, and Fit for the Gods from Vintage Books. More at www.mostlytaylor.com.