The Cure, by Adam Smith

The creature that stood beside Jennifer’s bed was something out of a nightmare. It’s long, trunk-like nose twitched randomly and seemed to pull the eyes downward. The eyes themselves were bloodshot and yellow, with sickly puss drying in the corners. It’s hair was rope-like, but only covered a small portion of its scaly, gray head. And the mouth- the mouth was a deep gash surrounded by black lips, cracked and peeling. Behind it stood three more, just the same. It raised a syringe and spoke in a voice like crunching leaves, “Soon, Jennifer, you’ll be one of us.”