Horror and Thriller Fiction posted January 1, 2018

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A club entry.

New beginnings?

by Rasmine

The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.

New beginnings -- what a joke! I mean, what do I do?  I totally screwed up my entire life with this.  How can I just start over? 

I look down and swallow.  I can hide the evidence as best I can, but I really can’t do more.  The police have all the sophisticated equipment and techniques to analyze hairs, skin cells, and so on.  How could I possible get away with this?  There is only so much you can do to get rid of evidence of blood and body fluids. 

I take a drink of the wine that he would have drank.  Great!  There goes my lip print – somehow, I must make that disappear.  First, the body, though. 

Okay, burial – basement burial is probably the best.  I must make sure it is deep enough, so it won’t smell.  I look at the clock.  I have time. 

I get the plastic shower curtain and pull his body on it.  I wrap it up and then drag it through the kitchen and stop at the basement door.  After I check under the body, I smile.  Good thing it didn’t rip, but moving the body down to the cellar would be another matter.  Would be better to carry it. 

I picked him up like a lover would pick up his girlfriend to whisk her off to the bedroom.  I am glad that I lift weights and work out; also helps that I am rather large for a woman.  

I clumsily walk down the stairs, holding Charles’ corpse, scared of falling, but more terrified of getting caught. 
As I dug through the dirt floor, I brainstormed.  I could just live in this house, or I could sell it.  Another idea would be to just take off, but I nixed that one – it would make me look too guilty.  I decided to just stay in the house.  I would clean up the blood the best I could and start over.  It would be like Charles never existed.

Finally, I dug down deep enough to make me wonder how I would get out of the hole.  I am almost six feet, so this should be deep enough, I hoped.  I grabbed the sides and lumbered out of the makeshift grave. 

I pushed Charles over to the mouth of the hole.  For a second, I balked.  His eyes opened, and he stared at me. 

“Charles?” I whispered with bated breath. 

I closed my eyes tightly against the tears, and when I opened them, his eyes were closed again.  Must have been my imagination.  I rolled him into the grave and heard the thud of his body as it hit the ground. 

I shovelled dirt back into the hole, when an idea struck me.  I could have this cemented.  I would do it myself of course, but I would be protected more. 
When I was done, I patted the dirt down neatly and then pulled an old oriental rug over it.  Now for the blood.  First this mound of dirt left over.  

I make a snap decision to just dump the dirt out the window into the yard.  I spent the next few minutes transporting shovelfulls of dirt and dumping under the bush out the window.  Good thing for that bush!

I ran up the stairs and walked to the spot where I had killed him.  There was a huge bloodstain on the carpet.  It was one of those sectional rugs, so I decided to cut out the spot that was ruined and replace it with the extra I had.   

It was almost dawn by the time I finished with everything.  I went to sit on the sofa first pouring some wine into his glass – it was my glass, but his DNA.  He had been my boyfriend, so his DNA in my house would be expected. 

I sat down and sipped.  “Well, Charles, to you.”  I held the glass out and toasted to a non-existent ghost.  “Now that you are gone, I will have a new beginning.”

I drank most of the wine when I heard the cellar door open.  I put the glass down and stood up.  Swallowing, I headed out to the kitchen where the door was. 

Ghosts don't exist so why was I doing this?  Silly me, I turned away and walked towards my bedroom.  I need to sleep.  Soon, this will be a distant memory. 

I lay on my bed and tried to drift off, but thoughts of the night before kept coming back. 
“Who is she, Charles?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.  What’s the matter with you?  Damn it, Wendy!”

The shearing scissors were lying on the bureau.  I grabbed them and stabbed him in the chest.  He never knew it was coming.  I then stabbed him in the stomach, and then again in the chest.  He died quickly, but not before grasping my hand and saying something ominously.

“You b…bitch,” he gasped, “I…I be back.”
He wouldn’t be back – couldn’t.  Once you are dead, that is it, there is no returning.  Now for a new beginning.  Maybe I’ll go back to school.

“Don’t count on it, sweetheart.” 

I opened my eyes and screamed.  Charles stood there holding the shearing scissors. 

TY, avmurray, for your artwork.


Club entry for the "New Beginnings" event in "Not A Flash In The Pan".  Locate a writing club.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

Artwork by avmurray at FanArtReview.com

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© Copyright 2018. Rasmine All rights reserved.
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