Lazy Lion
Used Books & More
146 South Main Street
Fuquay-Varina, NC 27526
(919) 552-9639
info@lazylionbooks.com
Monday 10 to 3
Tues -
Wed 10 to 5
Thu - Fri 10 to 8
Saturday 10 to 5
Closed Sunday
 |
Fuquay
Fright Fest '04 Short Story Contest Winners
Third Prize Winner!
His Work
By Stephen Clark of Dunalley, Tasmania, Australia
He wiped away the blood and sweat from his brow, hung the axe back in its rightful
place and left the cellar feeling content and a little weary. On entering
the kitchen he opened the fridge and twisted himself a beer. He placed the
empty vessel, after a satisfying belch, into the recycling bin and proceeded, naked,
to the bathroom where a hot shower beckoned.
The water immediately began to work on the drying blood that stubbornly wanted
to stay. He looked down to see it dilute and twirl around the drain before
disappearing from sight. He smiled…then vomited.
Not from the recollections of the cellar but of the fragrance of the recently
purchased hair product. The peach scent resembled putrefied intestines
faintly disguised with a burst of furniture polish. He detested himself for
the way his chunder stank in the steamy air. He smelled weak and vulnerable
and knew if the cellar cleaners became aware they would dispatch him without
a second thought.
The microwave hum partly concealed the arrival of the cellar cleaner’s return
from the earth and subsequent feasting on the latest offering. Bones could
be heard breaking and marrow extracted, grunts of pleasure from digesting
fresh brains and succulent flesh reminded him of a Christmas dinner with his
family, but that was a lifetime ago and the boy he once was had gone
forever.
The oven’s intermittent chimes sounded out the end of its command and the meal
was taken out and placed on the table. He sometimes mused he was eating a
movie star. He would close his eyes and place one of the small boiled
potatoes into his mouth and pretend it was an eye, he would roll it around
from side to side and eventually bite into it, but by then the flavor would
be evident and the fantasy would be lost.
Activity from below had ceased, an indication of their return to ground for
another month. He gave it five minutes before venturing down to make sure
everything was in order and to collect their offering of thanks.
The key was taken from its hook, used and returned. Bolts were drawn back. A
single light bulb was still illuminated the room. He descended the stone
stairway and was pleased to find they had eaten every last morsel offered.
Their payment lay in the center of the recently churned soil. A small, jade
colored object, leather in texture and no bigger than an egg caught his eye
and was picked up lovingly in both hands. It would take around three weeks
to mature, by then its tiny jaws would be strong and perfectly formed teeth,
pointed and enameled.
When the time was right he would insert it deep into his anus and in his
best clothes, cruise the local gay clubs. For now though it needed love,
nurturing and rest. Also, with it being Sunday, a sermon needed to be
thought up before his congregation arrived at ten.
©2004 Stephen Clark
|
