The Special Velvet Couch [Fiction]

Marissa grabbed a packet of potato chips and soda pop and plunked down on the navy-blue coloured velvet couch she'd just bought from the flea market.

The mission was to get some fine antique vases to breathe a sort of quaint beauty into their living room. You know, like the ones she spent hours ogling on the numerous decor magazines that Flynn, her ever-busy husband who worked as a hedge fund manager, was forced to buy on his way home. The fine furniture called her instead.

Marissa loved three things: decorating, lounging at home and of course, spending money. Flynn did not mind as long as he had a home and hot meals to come to.

She dropped the potato chips on the couch and slowly ran her palm over the smooth surface, enjoying the feel of the velvet. It was strangely warm and alive. She nodded in satisfaction. The price was worth it and hopefully, Flynn would love it too.

She relaxed back to start snacking when she heard the creak. She sat straight up and relaxed back again and the creaking sound followed. Surely, it couldn't be her weight. She was barely over sixty-five kilograms.

^{Image credit: Nicolas J Leclercq}

She placed the chips on the side table and stood to get a good look at the couch when she heard the jingle of keys and the doorknob turning. It was Flynn.

"Hey, darling. How's work today?" She said while bending over to check the legs of the furniture.

Flynn stopped beside her. "New couch eh? What are you doing?"

"Uh, I think it's damaged or coming loose somewhere. It made creaking noises when I sat on it."

"Tell me it's not from a flea market," Flynn said, a little irritated. "There must be a reason why someone would sell a product this beautiful."

"Oh please. You won't be allergic to this one. Look at the colour. It's perfect for our living room!" Marissa replied dismissively, her voice muffled by the effort of crouching down and looking under the furniture.

Flynn saw it first. A thin line appeared beside the armrest where the seams were coming apart. The thin gap widened a bit, giving the appearance of an evil smile and quickly settled back to its former position after a blink. Flynn wondered if he was tired or if he was seeing things.

"Uh, Marissa dear. I'm not sure about this sof—"

"What do you mean?" She looked up and glowered at him. Her eyes unusually gleamed like a child whose toy was about to be taken away. "I like it and so it stays." She turned back to examine the couch. Flynn quietly went to their bedroom.

Marissa dusted her hands and sat down with the satisfaction that the creak was fixed. She opened the chips, turned on the TV where an episode of Golden Girls was playing and munched happily.

Then the couch began to creak at a stop-and-start rate. Marissa froze and glanced about until she zeroed in on the torn part. She cussed under her breath. How did she miss that when she was buying the chair? She did give the couch a thorough look at the flea market and did not see the torn part.

She slowly touched the loose seams. The urge to dip her fingers into the tiny line to feel the foam underneath was strong. As she dipped her fingers in, something pulled her entire hand inside.

The grip was tight. What? She pulled back but the couch drew in her hand more. The TV glitched repeatedly at that point and the volume went higher, making it hard for anyone to hear her screams.

"Flynn! Help me," Marissa yelled while trying to get her hand out of the torn area. The more she tugged, the harder the couch pulled her in. Her head and shoulders were already going into the couch, a pitch-black space welcoming her at the other end.

Flynn ran downstairs due to the noise, his eyes bulging, to see the furniture swallow up the wriggling legs of his wife. He black out before his body collided with the floor.

This is my story inspired by the Freewrite Daily Prompt velvet couch. I hope you enjoy reading it.

Thank you for visiting my blog.