Here is my submission for a short story contest sponsored by the Short Story & Flash Fiction Society. It is a horror story based on a serene image (right). More details can be found here:
Enjoy,
LLH
The Rest of David
By L.L. Heberlein
(about 460 words)
“This is the last place they’ll look for us, David. We can rest here. We’re safe.”
But I knew it wasn’t true.
I caught my breath at the base of a narrow tree, one in a line of many narrow trees surrounded by a blanket of bushes, thick and green and growing. The wind kicked up, and the breeze brought with it the smell of fresh earth, like spring turning into summer. Like living hope.
Rows upon rows of narrow trees, tiny and new, lifted their leafy arms straight up toward the sun. It was peaceful. Quiet. Green and growing and full of life, far removed from anything ruined. A good place to stop.
It didn’t matter. They would look for us here. They would find us anywhere.
I clutched the old coffee can to my chest and closed my eyes. I wished all of him could have come with me, but I had only this, and it was all that was left of the rest of David.
If I could have, I would have had him cremated. I’d have burned him to cinders and gathered the ashes and put them in the coffee can instead of just this. I’d had neither the time nor the facilities for such luxuries. And when the time came to kill him, I kissed his purple lips, wrinkled and rotten, and struck my shovel against his wilted, blackened head. But it felt like a betrayal to leave him behind. So with my sharpened shovel I dug deep into his chest, cracking ribs and sternum with the pointed end. I dug down until I came to his heart, still red and fresh and full of blood. I cut it from his purple chest and placed it in the coffee can to take with me. To keep it with me until the end.
It was mine, after all. He had given it to me.
A wave of wind blew through the trees, whispering a random chorus as their delicate leaves danced, brushing their bodies against one another. I listened.
Listened.
Then the rustling turned rhythmic, becoming something more steady, like the sweep-sweep of legs moving through tall bushes, leaves brushing against bodies. So many bodies.
I’d have screamed, if there had been anyone to save me.
I’d have run, if there had been anywhere else to go.
But this was it. The last place they’d ever look for us. Brilliant and bright green and unaffected. The very last place.
I let that thought take me as their bruised and blackened faces appeared. I closed my eyes to the sight of their rotting fingers as they brushed my skin, and held tight to the image of a perfect row of trees as they stole the rest of David from my purple hands.
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