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Picture by csknotts
Picture by csknotts
This was much harder than I thought it would be, which is why it had taken me two weeks. Then again, not being a horror fan, I had a hard time getting into the mindset. Still, here goes!
Full of sounds and sighs.
Screams and howls.
Bones and blood.
Claws missing eyes.
Dark eating legs to bones.
“He’s a squawker, ain’t he,” Bill asked over the baby’s frantic cries.
“You’re holding him too tight.”
“You’re going to hurt him.”
“I ain’t gonna hurt him. What’d you care anyway. It’s just a stinky bird.”
“It’s not…… it’s….” She didn’t know, but it had wings. One day it could fly away, be free.
“Dumb bitch.” He squeezed his fist around the baby bird then tossed it aside. Onto the concrete. Walked inside.
She fell to her knees beside the tiny body, crying for broken wings.
“Why would you say that?” Holding back irritation.
“I never understood those beards.”
Workers bustled around, packing the statue into a sturdy wooden box, ensuring each delicate part was safely secured, and screwing on the lid. I marked the papers on my clipboard.
“They are fake. Worn for religious purposes.”
I turned away to hide growing anger. One simply did not talk about the Pharaoh in such a manner. Remained turned away, watching the wooden box loaded onto the first truck. Tapped the driver’s window.
The driver pulled away.
“No worries, Your Majesty. Soon, you will be free to rule once more.”
Sandra snapped the book closed. “What an ass!”
“Hummm?” David barely looked up from his paper.
“The nerve of that guy. ‘I don’t exactly hate you but if you were on fire and I had water, I’d drink it.'”
“I thought you didn’t like water?”
She shot him the stink-eye, but he never looked up.
“Actually, I love water,” she said sweetly. “Would you get me a glass?”
She hated the taste of water.
“Hum… in a minute.” He flipped several pages. “Did you know the damn Red Socks lost again?”
She rolled her eyes. “Really? How boring.”
“I know, you’d think they be able to get one damn player who knows how to play.”
“Hum… you think if one of them was on fire, the others would drink the water?”
He shook the papers in irritation. “What is it about you and water?” he growled.
“I thought you were getting me a glass?”
“Oh, for crying out loud, get your own damn water!”
Sinking back in her chair, one leg thrown over the arm, she sat in silence for a few moments, dangling foot swinging.
“I just might,” she replied coolly.
“Get me a glass while you’re in there.”
Stomping to her feet, she swished to the kitchen, angrily clanking glasses as she poured water into both.
Walking back into the living room, she stood over her husband’s chair for a moment, waiting fruitlessly to be acknowledged. The paper rustled as he turned another page; scratched his ear and sniffed.
Turning both glasses up, she dumped the water over David’s head.
“What the hell,” he sputtered, shooting out of his chair.
Cocking a hip, she smiled. “By the way, if you had been on fire, I would have drunk the water.”
Turning on her heels, she stalked out, leaving David staring after her.
What the hell was wrong with that woman?