It’s the first day of October, you knew that already. It is also a Wednesday. This would normally mean that it is time to vote over at Indies Unlimited. Sadly, I don’t have a story for the vote again this week. There are some good reasons for that and we will discuss them in turn.
First and foremost, we find ourselves in an interesting predicament. This is the first day of “Letters from the Sanitarium” and I have an interesting one to delight you with tonight. But this also causes a bit of confusion. Because of the challenge I am working through this month we will probably only deal with one story a day. This means I won’t be doing the Indies Unlimited challenge at all this month. Post overload is already going to be huge this month so I will avoid the one more thing that might bog everyone down.
Next on the agenda, I have never given a trigger warning and at times I think they are a bit superfluous. When you read my stories you tend to expect a bit of revulsion and horror. Oddly, I think you might even be a bit disappointed when I don’t give you blood. But I want to put this out there because of the month we are in.
Trigger warning: The stories you are about to read explore in graphic detail, possibly distasteful and problematic situations. If you are easily offended by adult subject matter, be warned that this will be offensive.
Now with all that said, let’s take our first step into the crazy…
The Silent World
Look at him, just look at him. So meticulous as he dips his finger into his potatoes, swirls it around. He pulls it out to examine the gravy and potato glop at the tip of his finger. Gah, and then he talks with his mouth full, disgusting. They don’t teach manners anymore I guess.
It’s the food, you know, the food. Mashed potatoes, squishy carrots, the food lacks the crunch of life. They boil the shit out of it. Meat so soft it can be cut with a spork. Nothin’ to it.
Not like Jennie Mae’s cheekbones. Those had some crunch. The hammer smashed them with a squish and a crack. Blood, a little at first, splattered with each strike.
Squishy bits of brain and eyes dripped from the hammer’s claw. It wasn’t one of those fancy ball-peen hammers, not for me. I picked it up at the five and dime on the way home. They didn’t have specialty stuff like that over there.
A luke warm stew pooled in the ready-made bowl of her skull. Who needs a spork. I tilted it back and drank right from the source. Those bone fragments gave it all sorts of crunch.
“Why Jennie Mae,” he asked me. “What about her set you off?” His words, he loved to use those words to dig at me. I told him already. This wasn’t our first conversation.
I pushed the chair away as I stood up. He told me to sit down but I refused. He wasn’t the boss of me. Not like Jenni Mae. She told me to sit down too. Told me how to eat my dinner. It was my dinner damnit.
I stopped at the five and dime on the way home from work. Used to work out at the Honda factory. Put together the trunk interiors, that’s what I did. Everyday, well five days a week. Everyday she hounded me, “Elbows off the table,” she’d say. “Close your mouth when you chew.”
But I loved her right, don’t you tell me I didn’t. Me and Jenni Mae, it was us against the world. We had plans, dreams. We were going to travel.
“But you killed her,” he said. Again with this. Didn’t he know we were young and in love. “You don’t kill people with a hammer, not when you love them,” he said.
I told him I didn’t do it. He didn’t believe me. He never believed me. Just like Jenni Mae. I think at times she hated me even. She would yell. Oh how she yelled. Don’t know why. I always took care of her.
“Tell me about your job,” said. Those questions again. He kept hounding me for information about my life, about work. Wouldn’t let me keep no secrets. They were mine to keep. Jenni Mae never let me have no privacy either.
I bit into her neck. Did you know that there aren’t any bones in the neck till you get to the spine? But it isn’t soft, not like mashed potatoes. There is sinew and dense muscle there. Sometimes, like Jenni Mae, a bit of chewy fat.
Her neck wobbled a bit when she laughed. It sure was a sight. I could make her laugh so hard that her face turned red and milk squirt out of her nose. But that neck fat and muscle it ripped and tore in my teeth, a bit colder as the temperature of her body dropped.
“You’re avoiding my questions,” he said. “Why don’t you want to talk about work?”
I already told him about work. He knows I did. I just can’t figure out why he kept changing the subject on me. It takes some pressure to break a person’s ribcage. You can’t really do it by hand. Hell, the ribs are slippery as all get out once you get past the skin and meat.
But the hammer’s claw and flat, those can break through. You have to be careful though, don’t damage the heart. Sure at this point her heart didn’t beat anymore. Her cold dead heart stopped beating some time ago. At least it stopped beating for me. I loved her, couldn’t she see that?
“Stop yelling,” he said. “Calm down, let’s try some deep breaths.” His voice was smooth and level but I saw it in his eyes. There was a hint of fear in his eyes. It happened from time to time and then he would end the session.
I gave her everything. I bought the house and put it in her name so she would always have a place to stay. She grew up in a broken home, right. Always told me how her father beat her so I always made sure to treat her nice. But she didn’t care. Seems the nicer I was to her the more she pushed me away.
I loved her damnit, loved her more than life itself. I beat my fists down, out of my chair again. It was an empty gesture in empty air, always made him back off when I started hitting the air like that. He tapped a button on the phone, said words I didn’t hear.
Probably called the guards. He does that from time to time when we talk. What can you do? She called the cops one night. Didn’t matter when the hammer came down. I hit her and hit her, the claw ripped and tore the skin and bone away from her skull. I felt nothing, nothing but the movement of my arm.
It flailed and flew. A strike and then another like hitting empty air. He was on the ground, just like Jenni Mae with her head bashed in. I dropped the stapler. The first sound I heard the entire session was the smack as it hit the floor.
Welcome to October. What do you think? Maybe it’s going to be an interesting month after all?
I snuck it in there, but if you haven’t had a chance yet check out The Heaven Gate. It’s available through Kindle Unlimited.