Old Friends at the Nursing Home by frogbook
Supernatural Flash Fiction writing prompt entry
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.|
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
Whoda’ thought Mean Jack would end up in a shithole like this? He shook his head in disgust, cursed as he caught his finger in his wheelchair.
“Sons of bitches, make the damn doors wider!”
No one paid any attention. Since Jack had arrived two weeks ago, he hadn’t talked to a soul. At sixty he was too young to be in here. He just couldn’t say no to pullin’ one last job.
The piece of shit in the Cadillac hadn’t even slowed down.
Some big mouth nurse told him the “Home” was better than a cell. Sure, if ya liked droolin’ mugs with shit in their drawers.
Besides since he first got here, he was creeped out at night. First night, he heard someone walkin’, sounded just like old man Green. Couldn’t be though, because the boys had gotten rid of the guy on the fillin’ station job. It was an accident. The old guy dragged that one leg and no one knew he was close by, when they set the fire near the pumps.
Canes tappin’ here, reminded him of Pop Simpson in the general store, robbery back in ’83. Old dude didn’t listen when Joey Bulldog, told him to put the phone down. First time Jack had seen a man die.
After that, hurtin’ people got easier, especially old ones. Friends got caught, but he was lucky and no one ever ratted on him.
Lights out at nine. Shit, he was about ready to put someone’s lights out, when he heard that draggin’ step. Creepy enough, but he swore he heard his name, “Jaacckksonn.”
Someone was a real joker. He grabbed a metal pipe from the bed rails.
“Who’s the funny guy?” he said bursting out the door of his room.
The hall was deserted.
Turning back to the room, something struck him on the side of the head. He heard the sound of a cane tapping its way down the hall but no one was in sight.
He hurried into his room and shut the door, sweating now.
“Give us our money back,” an old woman’s voice commanded.
“Ain’t got no money,” he answered feeling foolish, but afraid.
Canes began to rain down on his head.
Weaving his wheelchair, he burst into the hall, wheeling as fast as he could, hearing dragging legs and tapping canes. He looked back, saw no one. He turned around just in time to see the top stair before he toppled over it.
The detective stood. “Looks like ole Jack’s gone. I suspect he got away with a lot more than we could prove, throughout his life. Couldn’t get away with careless driving in his wheelchair, though.”
Another officer said, “Sure has some strange injuries. Woulda’ thought someone gave him a beating, if we didn’t know that wing was empty. Used to be isolation for burn patients, long time ago. Still remember that poor Mr. Green got burned up in that fillin’ station accident. Never saw nothin like that.”
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