#FlashMobWrites 1 x 48 : I’m So Happy I Could Die

They got in Charlie’s car and Charlie turned it on. The satellite radio started playing the song from the bar, and Darla’s voice kept singing along with it. Charlie changed the station, then changed it again, and again. Every station had the same song. Darla was everywhere.

Charlie turned the radio off. Bob stared at him, “She’s come back to get us, hasn’t she?”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts!” Charlie put the car in gear, looked over his shoulder, and backed out of the parking space. When he put the car in drive and looked out the front windshield, Darla was standing there, pointing at him and Bob.

The look on their faces was priceless. “Remember, Charlie. There’s no such thing as ghosts,” I chuckled. “God, I love holograms.”

Charlie ran over Darla. Bob turned whiter than snow. Neither of them realized I was in the back seat, trying not to laugh, waiting until the first stoplight for my next move. It came soon enough.

I did have to wonder what they thought, sitting at that stop light, watching Darla drive by in car after car. Watching her sit in the driver’s seat of the car behind them as she pointed an accusing finger at them, and mouthed the silent words, “You murdered me.”

Bob wet himself.

Charlie bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood.

Darla was everywhere they looked on the drive. Bob gave up, closed his eyes, and put his hands over them. Charlie drove, and was stuck seeing her everywhere. I wasn’t the least bit sorry for torturing them the way I did. I planned to torture them endlessly until the ghost of Darla forced them to confess to their actions.

The drive ended when they reached Charlie’s place. “Finally,” Charlie mumbled. Bob excused himself, and headed to the bathroom to clean up. Charlie went to his kitchen, pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He called out to Bob, “You drink your whiskey neat, right?” Bob answered yes, so Charlie poured two shots, neat and carried them to the main room. He grabbed the remote, and switched on the power for his entertainment system.

Charlie picked a channel from the online guide that was showing a favorite movie of his. He sat on his sofa, and pushed the play button.

And was greeted by Darla’s hidden burial site in the woods, displayed in full color, in high resolution, on his 70 inch screen, accompanied by the sounds of leaves rustling in the wind, the birds singing now and then.

Charlie sat there. He couldn’t move. He stared at the screen. The remote fell to the carpet.

Bob finished what he was doing, and returned to the room to see the same scene.

That’s when Darla showed up on the TV. She stood next to her shallow grave. “You did this to me,” she whispered. “I’ll never leave you alone.” She looked out from the screen, “You stole my life. Now I’m stealing yours.”

497 Words
@LurchMunster


This is Part 6 of a story I’m writing using the prompts for the #FlashMobWrites challenge. #FlashMobWrites is hosted by Ruth Long and Cara Michaels.  Please, go read all the stories for #FlashMobWrites Week 1×48. You might find something you like. But if you don’t read them, how will you ever know?

#FlashMobWrites 1×42 : Graceland (Second Try)

Clara’s tears blended with the steady rainfall as she used her shovel to pack down the dirt on the shallow grave for Eskimo. Eskimo’s grave was next to Tiger’s, Tiger’s next to Stripes’, and Stripes’ next to Hazel’s. Little homemade tombstones stuck out of the ground for the others. She hadn’t had time to make one for Eskimo yet.

“The trouble with living a long time,” she thought, “you get to see everyone that matters die.”

She stood and looked at the graves for her four cats, “Hazel, Stripes, Tiger? Take care of Eskimo.” Clara was soaked, water dripped from her chin, hair, fingertips, and ran down her pants legs to the ground. Her shoes were a total loss to the mud.

“Oh, Eskimo. You died so young.” Eskimo had lived for eight joyous years. “I loved the way you used to sleep on my pillow, propped against my head.” She cried at the memory, her tears washed away by the rain.

“You never did catch the red dot.” Eskimo always chased the red dot the pointer made on the carpet and the wall, as if trying to stop it from moving. Clara giggled, “Tiger will explain the red dot to you,” she looked at Tiger’s grave. Tiger had figured out the red dot, and stopped chasing it.

Clara remembered the times Eskimo climbed into her lap, with that look he got that said, “I know you’re lonely tonight, Mommy. It’s OK. I’ll take care of you.” And he had. He’d given her a family, a friend, a confidant. Eskimo was who she talked with. She told him everything about her life, how her day at work went, how stupid and frustrating men were. Eskimo always listened, and always rubbed his cheeks against hers. He made sure Clara knew how much he loved her.

Eventually, the rain wore her down, and Clara started toward the house. Halfway there, she turned to look at the graves again, “What’s that?” Her jaw dropped, and she took several steps toward the graves. All four of her cats were there, looking at her. Hazel, Stripes, Tiger, and Eskimo. Their purrs, and their voices all told her the same thing.

“We don’t want you to be lonely, Mommy. There’s always room for another family member. When you’re ready we want you to find a new kitty who will take care of you.”

Clara smiled, happy tears blended with the rain, “Thank you, my children. Thank you.”

After a shower, and some hot cocoa, Clara curled up under her blankets, and hugged her pillows. “I miss you already, Eskimo”. She cried herself to sleep because she realized her friend was never going to prop against her head again. “Good-bye, Eskimo.” She hugged her pillow. “Good-bye.”

459 Words
@LurchMunster


I wrote a second story for #FlashMobWrites 1×42, hosted by Ruth Long and Cara Michaels.  Please, go read all the stories for #FlashMobWrites 1×42. You might find something you like. But if you don’t read them, how will you ever know?

#FlashMobWrites 1×42 : Graceland (First Try)

I stood beside her shallow grave, in the steady rainfall that February night, and made a promise to her, I’d find who put her there and when I was through with them, there wouldn’t be enough left to bury.

It was them, that much I knew. The armor had digitally enhanced the area around the grave, using edge sharpening, and color spreading. I knew there were five of them, from the footprints in the ground, the damage to the grasses, the way the rocks had been displaced. Five distinct footprints.

“They knew who you were,” I spoke the words, though the armor silenced them. “It’s how they got to you.” I knelt beside the grave, used the armor’s scanners to look through the dirt and rock, to see her remains in the ground. “They beat you pretty badly, didn’t they.” The armor recorded the fracture to her skull, the dislocated vertebrae in her neck, the torn skin and bruises on her wrists and ankles. “How long have you been missing?” I had no way of knowing how long she’d been missing, or who she was, without digging her up, and getting a DNA sample, or fingerprints.

“Marker.” A slot on the left forearm of my armor opened and a small, black box with an LED on it popped out. I pushed a button on the box. The LED came on, a blinding red, visible for hundreds of feet. “Test.” The armor tuned a radio receiver to the frequency the box was broadcasting. The signal was a very clear “PING!” I pulled the plastic sheet off the bottom of the box, and put it on the rocks she was buried under. That box adhered to the rock.

“911.”

I spoke into the phone, my voice altered electronically, “They killed this woman, and they buried her in the woods! Oh, God, they killed her!” I had to explain where, “I have an emergency beacon in my backpack. I’ll put that out.” I gave them the frequency of the beacon. They asked me to stay where I was. “I can’t do that.” Of course, they wanted to know why. “It’s not safe here. They might find me.” I hung up.

I moved into the trees, and waited five minutes. I called 911 again. “They’re after me! They found me!” I fired two shots from my hand-held into the ground. “Jesus, they’re gonna kill me!”

I waited.

Shortly, there were sirens, followed by lights, and several law officers. They found the beacon.

So it began, the next hunt. “Armor 17.” I called headquarters. “Going silent.” That was the signal headquarters knew meant I was actively pursuing a case. They’d wait to hear from me.

I waited in the steady rainfall that night in February, for the authorities to come for her body. I’d let them identify her, and I’d go from there.

“I promise you, I will find them.”

482 Words
@LurchMunster


I wrote this for #FlashMobWrites 1×42, hosted by Ruth Long and Cara Michaels.  Please,go read all the stories for #FlashMobWrites 1×42. You might find something you like. But if you don’t read them, how will you ever know?