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For Mother ..

 
Hanne Berg's picture
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It had been a much hotter than usual summer day in New Flagstaff. Not the usual dry desert heat but oppressively humid.

Neither did the evening rain come. It was just hot, humid, even at 02:45.

People lay on top of their beds, windows were open. It was stultifying.

 

Few could sleep, least of all Dwight Frye. He was sitting naked on the floor in the corner of his room sweating, his knees drawn up to his chin. Sweating, shaking, whimpering.

She was outside the door. He could hear Her feet scratching on the planking. Eight black legs skittering the wood of the door, the frame, the passageway floor.

 

The handle! No!

 

The door creaked, the malefic dark bulbous shape filled the doorway

 

“Mother, No, please!” Dwight’s voice was thin, escaping through clenched jaws.

 

The dark shape approached, even in the darkness Dwight could see the gloss black bulkiness, the red crest on Her back, Her eyes, luminous red, constant in the gloom.

Dwight rose and took to his knees before Her. He was shaking, supplicant.

She breathed on his face, clacking mandibles before his widened eyes. Hissing.

 

Behind Her massive bulk the tiny ones scuttled, cascading across the floor, his bed, chattering, chirping. Kill kill kill kill.

 

Four of Her legs caressed him. His face, shoulders, chest, scrotum.

Dwight clasped his hands together as if praying, tears in his eyes, still shaking. He became aroused,

She touched. She absorbed his mind, took his will.

He bowed his head as She took it to her mouthparts. Her whisper was soft

 

“Bring me one.”

 

Equally softly he replied “Yes.”

 

“Good boy.”

 

And then she was gone.

 

Dwight dressed and went out into the heat of the night. The scum of the night would have been wiser to avoid.

But they did not. Why should they? They owned the Flagstaff night, Didn’t they?

A middle aged man alone in a dark ally. Easy pickings. They followed.

 

Jeers, taunting, cruel laughter. The three circled Dwight demanding a fee for using ‘their’ turf. Dwight saw their blades, he portrayed fear.

They could not see his eyes, but he saw theirs as he opened his coat.

 

Jeers became screams. The axe head flashed, wooshed, hacked. The alley became strewn with severed body parts.

Dwight grunted with each blow, chopped down on broken bodies again and again, sweating in the desperate heat of the near-dawn.

 

 

Finally he gathered up the parts, bagged them. He pushed his horrific cargo into the car.

Pausing only for a few moments he left New Flagstaff behind.

Spider hill awaited.

 

Mother would be pleased.

 

Comments

Joe Spivey's picture

((On hot nights I just can't sleep. Never felt the need to go out and murder three people and transport body parts around the country. Still, my mother has the right number of legs so that might be a contributing factor. I feel they may soon be a new opportunity opening up in the Situation Vacant column.

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

Hanne Berg's picture

(( just be thankful Dwight is no longer inspecting your tax returns, Joe

"Duct Tape. turning "No ! No ! No !  into mmph mmph mmph since 1942"

Hanne Berg's picture

From her office,Hanne watched Dwight carefully over the top of a report she was not reading, only pretending to do so. She knew the signs only too well.

Later, in the Plaza the gossip was of the discovery of several pools of blood in an alley just behind the cinema building. Blood but no body or bodies. Hanne sighed deeply, things were beginning to add up. She decided to have a discreet word with one or two of the Union guards, her 'special' ones.

By lunchtime she had most of the answers she needed. It seemed that the number of street-level punks in the area had decreased by 'two or three'.

Later she sat in Beau's bar sipping a large drink but the whisky was not helping to unwind the knot in her gut. So long as Dwight kept killing the 'right' kind of people she could keep turning a blind eye to Dwight's 'issues'. To be brutally honest, Dwight was doing herself and the town a favour, sort of.

However, if that changed. If he turned his activities elsewhere, the innocents, or worse, women. Then Hanne would be forced to take matters further, before the stink affected The Company, herself even. Ok so The Ranyhyn Company had its own idiosynchratic methods of dealing with trouble, often before the crimes were comitted. But when all was said and done, Ranyhyn was working for the greater good, wasn't it?

She gulped down the in hand whisky and beckoned another. She shuddered, not from the Spivey Rotgut she had been served, but Dwight was starting to make her shudder. He would progress further, psychopaths always do. The question was when would she have to take action, and how? Up until now, Dwight's talents had been an asset. But she could see him becoming one big liability. And soon!

 

"Duct Tape. turning "No ! No ! No !  into mmph mmph mmph since 1942"



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