Leaves blew across the damp sidewalk, creating scratching noises that filled the otherwise silent neighborhood with sound. A white Victorian house, lit only by the moon, stood out on this quiet and eerie night. Animals of all species circled the house; their heads staring up into the second story bedroom window.

Inside the room, alone in a full sized bed, lay the innocent man Ernest. His face was peaceful; his mouth wide as drool soaked his pillow. The alarm clock on his bedside table read 3:58 AM.

A sharp wind cut through the trees, a gust that was seemingly headed straight for Ernest's house. The hackles raised on the backs of the animals, and they began to hiss and squawk towards the trees before scattering into the night.

A haunting, evil presence slithered through the trees. It was a translucent shadow, weightless and nearly impossible to see. The shadow passed over one of the leaves of the tree. A black vein began to run its way down the leaf, through the branch, down the trunk, and deep into the roots. The roots began to writhe in the dirt, even seeding the darkness into the ground itself. This, in turn, poisoned the groundwater. The roots slowly charred and sizzled to dead twigs.

Ernest noticed none of this, and did not sense the shadowy evil slowly pour into his room. It misted its way towards his alarm clock, which now read 3:59am. The mist, although formless, appeared to inspect the clock before suddenly blasting inside of it before disappearing forever. The clock then read 2:59am.

...

An extremely loud buzzing startled Ernest awake, and he slammed his hand down onto the alarm clock. The buzzing did not stop, and Ernest moaned as he sat up to do more than mindlessly bash. He switched the alarm off, but that didn't work either. Ernest clenched his teeth and yanked the power cord out of the back, yet the clock still buzzed.

"I GET IT!" Ernest yelled, shoving the alarm clock under his mattress.

The muffled beeping surely annoyed him, but his mind was already past it. He was only thinking about the beautiful trip that awaited him. He had packed his bags the night before, and they were waiting for him by the front door. All he had to do was brush his teeth, get dressed, and the shuttle would be there for him right at 4:30am.

Ernest loved flying. He enjoyed getting to the airport early, for the comfort of knowing that the horrible airline wouldn’t pressure him to give up his seat because they “overbooked the flight.”

He walked downstairs and drew himself a cup of tap water and noticed that it tasted a little off. Then he saw that the stove clock read 5:20am. He spit the water across the kitchen.

He skid across his floor to the front door and cranked it open to see an empty driveway. A note was taped to the door, written on Shuttle Bus LTD letterhead. "You weren't here. We left. Your account has been suspended. A $300 fine has been dispatched. Thank you for choosing Shuttle Bus LTD!"

Ernest wanted to cry; his heart felt heavy. But he still had a decent amount of time to make another arrangement. He retrieved his phone from the backpack by the door and opened up his rideshare app. "No drivers available at this time. Try again later."

He searched for a taxi company online, and called the one with the best reviews. "Sorry sir, all my guys are out right now, damned flu and all. Try my buddy's company, Lucky's Transport. click"

Ernest called Lucky's Transport, and the dispatcher was instantly annoyed with him. "Look sir, you are going to need to fax over a ride request. We're oldschool at Lucky's. Don't have a fax? You ain't taking a Lucky cab. click"

Ernest slung his backpack over his shoulder, grabbed his rolling luggage, and walked out the front door. He locked it tight, and went to the bus stop. His heart raced as he waited for the bus, it was now 6:20am and his flight was at 8am.

The bus arrived 20 minutes late, and he hopped on and paid the fare. The bus was filled to the brim with dock workers getting off their shift. The smell was putrid; a rotten squid perfume wafted into his nose. It was standing room only, and the bus stopped at every single stop until each dock worker had exited. It was now 7:45am and he was just pulling up to the airport stop.

Ernest burst off the bus and ran in a full sprint towards the security line. It wrapped around the building. He started crying, but saw a woman sleeping on a bench with a cane leaned up against her knee. He didn't hesitate; he walked up and stole the cane, and limped to the front of security. "Please, the bus didn't have the proper mobility, my cane... I need to get through. My flight . . . it . . . it leaves in 10 minutes." Ernest said through real tears, barely able to take a breath.

The TSA officer had no empathy or sympathy in his heart. Not a single drop. But he had been demoted for dealing poorly with a disabled passenger the week prior. So without a sound, he opened a gate that led to the front of security, and waved Ernest in.

He got to his gate and saw that there were about five passengers left to board. Ernest went to the desk and muttered "Priority," he took a huge breath, so winded he could barely speak, "Pri-ority boarding."

"Sir, this is an overbooked flight, would you be willing to give up your sea-,"

"No, I will be boarding now," Ernest said smugly.

When he finally got seated, it was the farthest seat in the back of the plane, in the middle of two giant friars in brown robes. The friars were chanting in low grunts for most of the flight, and smelled strongly of incense. Ernest couldn't care less. He was so grateful to be on the flight, finally heading to his all inclusive vacation to Isla del Odio.

He hadn't taken a trip in a long while, so he really splurged this time; his own villa on the beach, multiple "all you can eat" restaurants at the resort, and all the drinks he'd like. He was going to lounge by the pool, swim with dolphins, and best of all . . . he was finally going to jetski.

Even though he was in the last row on the plane, it still felt like a sniveling child was kicking his chair for the entire flight. The friars finally stopped chanting, but then immediately began snoring.

After disembarking the plane, Ernest went through four hours of customs, harassment, and interrogation before finally reaching the resort’s shuttle.

Isla del Odio was heavenly: a true tropical paradise. Ernest took a deep breath of the fresh island air and smiled. "I made it."

When he arrived at the resort, eight of the well dressed staff members were standing at the entrance and waving at the shuttle. They greeted him with a necklace of emerald green shells, and gave him a large mango cocktail. Ernest was beaming with delight; his vacation was finally here.

The staff encouraged him to walk the grounds of the resort as they took his luggage to his room. Before they took his bags, he popped off his shirt and stuck it into his backpack. “Won’t be needing this,” he said, trying to get a laugh from the stoic bellhop.

Ernest strolled. His eyes darted from exotic birds to the sparkling clear ocean to beautiful women laying under palapas. He saw many families and couples, and began to feel sour and lonely.

He finished his cocktail only to realize his lips and throat felt a bit tingly. Ernest went into a restroom and looked into the mirror, not recognizing the reflection. His lips were the size of ripe bananas: his eyes specks buried in a volcano of flesh. His neck was bulged outward, as thick as the trunk of a small tree.

He woozily wandered towards the welcome center, asking if they had any Benadryl or something that could help with the swelling. They smiled, unsure of what he was asking, and said no. After trying to explain for a few minutes, he became exasperated and just went to the beach to catch his breath. He laid out on a day bed, closed his eyes, and took deep breaths as he tried to convince himself that his throat wouldn't close up.

He dreamed of the woman waking up on that airport bench, feeling around for her cane, looking underneath her seat, her face looking so defeated.

When Ernest woke up, the swelling was gone. It was midday, and he was disoriented. How long had he slept, he wondered. He must have been there all night and all morning. Before he could get his bearings, the pain set in. He was sunburnt beyond recognition, his skin such a deep red that it was nearly dark purple. White flakes covered his body, his skin that had grown so taut that it gave up and shredded off of him.

He started wailing. Then the thirst came upon him. His lips were like broken shells, exploded skin crisped into hard points. He sat up too quickly; his entire back stayed stuck to the chair. He could only feel white hot pain. His senses were entirely overwhelmed and he fell off the chair into the sand, only to pass out again.

A staff member ran over and saw what was happening, and poured water onto Ernest’s lips. He woke up and his eyes bulged. He grabbed the water from the staff member and drained it, then threw it back up onto his chest. It was sunscreen.

After having a medic remove his swimsuit, he was placed in a translucent plastic suit filled to the brim with aloe vera. Nurses giggled as his nude body splashed around in the slimy bag. They put him in a wheelchair and wheeled him to the front desk, where he saw his luggage waiting for him.

”Sir, you must have slept through your check-out time, so you are being charged an additional $300 for late check-out. We hope you enjoyed your five night stay with us, it was a pleasure to have you,” a bored front desk woman yawned.

Ernest started screaming again, causing other guests to look towards him and his unsightliness. He realized that he had somehow slept all five days and nights as soon as he arrived. Missing his entire vacation. No villa. No all you can eat. No dolphins. His face contorted.

"How could you have let this happen, why didn't anyone wake me or take care of me when they saw I was burning and not moving for days! You will be hearing from my lawyer!" Ernest yelled earnestly.

"We won't be hearing from any such person, as this is entirely on you. You were on the 24 hour private beach. We honor our guests' privacy and have no business bothering them while they do as they please. Once again, thank you for your stay, and please give us a five star review. It would really help."

Ernest screamed again, he wasn't sure if it was the physical pain or mental sadness.

...

When Ernest arrived back home, he saw that his large oak tree from his front yard had collapsed and fallen into his house. The tree looked as though it had died overnight. He shuffled in his plastic bag outfit, leaving a slimy trail of aloe behind him. Every step he took was agony, but he had a few days of recovery on the floor of the airport as he waited for the delay to be lifted after the volcano had let out some ash. Ernest had been fired from his job for not reporting to work as well.

He noticed another note on the door. A court summons in his name, he was being sued for stealing Gloria Enho's cane at the airport, it was found in a trash can by his gate and tested for fingerprints. Ernest was a match.

He also had received an additional fine for missing the airport shuttle. Nothing fazed him now, he just needed to get to sleep in his own bed. He looked into his kitchen, pitch black mold had grown where he spit the water. He didn't give it a second glance.

Ernest made his way up the stairs, into his bedroom, and saw huge branches from the tree had crashed through his window and pierced his mattress. He crawled into bed anyways, wrapping around the wooden labyrinth. And as he laid there, he heard the alarm clock, still buzzing under his mattress. He let out an extremely pained yelp and was never seen again.