I know he’s dead. I killed him myself. Stabbed the knife into his heart. Felt the blood as it gushed over my face, surprisingly hot, salty to the taste, viscous. I watched the life drain from his eyes. Saw the horror turn slowly to incredulity and then, an unexpected acceptance. I know he’s dead.
I saw him two nights ago. I was brushing my teeth and I glanced up towards the window. I clearly saw his face outlined against the leaves that were swirly madly on the tree outside. I blinked, and he was gone. I spat in the sink, marched over to the window and closed the blinds. He wasn’t going to get at me like that.
I know that all the doors were locked. There’s no way he could have been downstairs last night. I know because I took the key from his corpse. As I walked past the laundry room, it’s impossible that he could have been silhouetted against the clothes drying on the rack. It was just because the rack was his height, that the clothes were his colour, that the shape was the exact shape of his body.
I put the clothes away and went to bed.
As I slept, I awakened to footsteps on the stairs. I heard every single one of those stairs creak as I lay in the dark. I knew it was not his feet on each step. As the footfalls crept closer and closer to the upstairs landing and moved, almost inaudibly to my closed bedroom door, I knew it was not him.
When I woke this morning, it was some freak combination of the coffee shop on the corner and the bakery down the block that gave me the impression that someone had prepared something delicious for me. It was not his hand on the breakfast tray.
In the shower, I thought of the knife as it thunked into his flesh – the shock of the blow wincing through my shoulder. I considered ordering a deeper freezer. The one I have has barely enough room for frozen peas and ready meals. There is a large selection of hacked and bloody meat in there at the moment. And it’s taking up way too much space.
When I heard a knock on the door. I knew it could not be him. When I opened the door to find his cheerful face beaming at me from the front porch, I knew that it was not his smile.
And yet, when he said, “hi, Deirdre, it’s lovely to see you,” it sounded so very like him that I almost blurted out the obvious fact that he was dead. I was just lucky that I didn’t because the next thing he said made me smile. Made me think of that bigger deep freezer again.
“It’s Ken – surprise! My twin brother’s told me so much about you!”
Eeek! Grissly and twisty 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh – sorry about that. It was meant to be more cerebrally chilling than viscerally ‘grissly and twisty’. I guess I just got carried away. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
It was a good day for visceral! 😁
LikeLiked by 1 person
And it’s certainly not every day you get to say that! 😀
LikeLiked by 1 person
Eek is right! But I like the ending, very fun!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Good. I have it in the back of my mind that I write a good ending. It’s not often that they appear to me much sooner than three sentences from the last one. Thanks, Dee. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
You do. Endings can be difficult for me, I rush them sometimes. I’m actually really plotting out a story now and it’s both tough and rewarding!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hey, thanks, Dee – my fishing paid off. 🙂
I’ll let you get on with your plotting then. Hope it has a happy ending. 😀
LikeLiked by 1 person
And I fell for it hook, line and sinker! My stories almost always have happy endings, but this one is maybe more realistic…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Aw c’mon – happiness is real too!
LikeLike
Well, sure, but I guess maybe not a cookie cutter happy ending, you know?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ooo, you little iconoclast, you! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Robert, you know me SO well! I’m such a rebel 😀
LikeLiked by 1 person
That you are, Dee – and all the more lovable for it. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, my friend ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂 Happy Friday!
LikeLiked by 1 person
To you, too, Robert. Big plans for the weekend?
LikeLiked by 1 person
I have a wife returning from India (and so a house to clean), an Open Uni meeting, an assignment to write for Thu and an adoring public to serve. Aside from that, a plan to go see a movie (Logan) on Sunday, do a bit of shopping and maybe some gardening. Aside from that, nothing much. You? 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I saw Logan a week ago or so. It was violent but still well done, good message. I can’t do a lot yet but I’m going to enjoy beautiful weather today — almost summer like.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s really warm in the sun here, so much so that you start to sweat in a t-shirt and light jacket, but as soon as you go in the shade, you can actually see your breath! It’s like half way between Winter and Summer. I wonder it there’s a word for that? 🙂
Looking forward to Logan now.
Just keep your pecker up, Dee – it’ll all come straight. 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s halfway between winter and summer here, too. We call it spring 😉 I was going to tell you keeping my pecker up would be anatomically impossible, but when I looked up the British slang, I saw that it was very different than the American slang, so I’ll just say thanks, I will! And you, too!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hahaha – I did wonder if you would need your Brit to US lookup table for that one. 🙂
Spring, huh. That’s novel.
LikeLiked by 1 person
:D.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I burst out laughing at the end.
Blood is salty? Can’t remember.
LikeLiked by 1 person
What do you mean you can’t remember?. You mean since the last time arterial blood spurted in your face?!
*run, Robert – run!*
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yep, that’s what mean. It’s been a few……months.
(I’m a fast runner, but don’t worry, I’m sure you can outrun me by virtue of having longer legs.)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hmm. Oooookay. *starts to back off slowly with fixed smile on face*
LikeLiked by 1 person
Run, Robert, run! Mwahahahaha
LikeLiked by 1 person
Immaculate spelling of ‘evil laugh’ – I salute you (from a distance). 😀
LikeLiked by 1 person
I salute back (from a distance). 😃
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m with the ‘Eek’ too…and doesn’t blood has a metal taste to it? Or does that mean one’s ill? Hm. Anyway, in spite of the Eek, great story!
XxX
LikeLiked by 1 person
Do you know, I’m not really sure what blood tastes like. I mean, I’ve sucked my finger when it’s bled, but not really taken much notice of the taste. Metallic is it? Duly noted. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person