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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.”
He watched the island falling behind, harvest moon rising over the land like an omen.
“I will never come back here,” he said aloud, repeating the words in his mind. Never come back.
That didn’t mean he wouldn’t do his duty. He would. Bravely and proudly, he would serve his country.
But, his eyes remained fixed on the island growing smaller in their wake, smudged to nothing by falling dark.
Soon it was gone.
He turned away, letting go of what he had lost forever.
His mother held the flag from his coffin like she once held her son.
He was home.
“Poor little fellow,” Johnny remarked, peering in at the taxidermied fox behind the glass. He wondered how long had been dead; why somebody decided to stuff it and put it in a museum. Wouldn’t it be better to see the fox alive, in the wild?
Dan shrugged. “It’s just a dog.”
“Fox,” Johnny corrected.
“Whatever. Come on, I want to get some chips before we go back to the bus.”
That had been Senior Year, twenty years past, but he still remembered the dead fox. He had no idea if Dan had gotten his chips, but the blank look on the fox’s face had stayed with him all those years.
Putting his binoculars back up to his eyes, he watched the kids tumbling and playing around the den. Mother fox lay nearby, guarding her kids from that dead fox, twenty years in the past, blank eyes staring into nothing.