The Sun Will Still Shine
A knock came at the door. Gavin looked up
from his place on the bare bunk of his cell.
The guard had peeled away the cover from
the window and now peered through the opening.
"The doctor's here to see you," he announced,
then stepped aside, allowing the doctor room
to step into the gap and acknowledge Gavin,
before the mat was dropped back into place.
Soon, Gavin heard the doctor pulling up
a chair, which grated on the cement floor,
stopped, then the metal slot on the door slid open
and a pair of eyes appeared in the opening.
"Come," said the doctor, "I wish to speak with you."
Gavin drew up and kneeled beside the door.
"How are you feeling? Anything on your mind?"
asked the doctor, who stared at him intently.
"Well," replied Gavin, "I'm afraid..." He cast
a glance around the confines of the cell.
"Afraid?" the doctor asked. "What are you afraid of?
There's nothing here to hurt you. There's no one
here that wishes you harm. We want to help you."
"No," replied Gavin, "that's not why I'm scared.
It's just..." he paused and took to breathing hard.
"Tell me, then," said the doctor, "what are you
worried about? I want to assure you..."
"I'm afraid..." Gavin interrupted, faltered,
and began again, "I'm afraid that I
might never get to see the sun again."
"Why is that?" said the doctor. "How could that be?"
"Well, I'm afraid," said Gavin, "it will burn out
and go dark and that it will soon quit shining."
The doctor smiled at Gavin through the slot.
"Come now," he said, "I can assure you that
that will not be the case. You'll see it again."
Gavin shook his head, "And how do you know?
It could go out at any minute. Then I'll
have missed the last of it," and he frowned.
"I can assure you," said the doctor, "it
will still be shining by the time you get out.
It has been shining since the beginning of time.
It always has, and always will be, Gavin."
Gavin's face brightened. Then he began to cry.
"I guess you're right," he said, then hid his face
with his hands and took a moment to sob.
'Grandma?'
He knocked and waited and then tried again.
Some minutes passed and still there was no answer.
He tried the handle, but the door was locked,
and when he shouted there was no reply.
Pressing his ear against the door, he listened.
He could hear something on the television,
though nothing else. But she had to be home.
And still, she wasn't answering the door,
and he began to fear the worse for her.
Going around the house he checked the windows.
On every one he found the curtains drawn.
He reached the backdoor. Thankfully, it was
unlocked allowing him to gain access.
He stepped inside and there was a commotion
when something small and furry bolted from
the kitchen and went into the other room.
It startled him, but he quickly realized
he had merely frightened his grandma's cat.
"Hello?" he said. "Is anybody home?
It's just me, your grandson, so that you know."
He headed for the living room, still calling:
"I'm just here to check on you, if that's alright.
Grandma?"
When, upon entering the room,
he pulled up short, gasping at what he found.
Grandma was there, still sitting in her chair,
her face a horrifying, bloody mess,
and her blouse was covered in her own blood.
"What in the world happened here!?" he yelled out.
He rushed to grab the phone and heard a 'mew.'
Turning, he found the cat in the doorway,
its face covered in gore, matting its fur.
It was then that he knew what really happened.
"You little bastard!" he told the damned thing.
"You ate Grandma's face off, once she was dead!"
It was true, although the cat was innocent.
For, Grandma must've died some days before,
and it had merely been desperate for food.
The One Beside You
The fact we were alone played with my head.
I wasn't used to having friends like her,
and, when she didn't seem to share my fears,
I soon began to think she was naive.
That I could kill her if I wanted crossed
my mind and I instantly felt ashamed.
"What do you want to do tonight?" she asked,
in the friendliest voice imaginable,
and looked at me so sweetly that I cringed.
I was afraid to have more thoughts as such
and was relieved to think of a distraction.
"You want to watch a movie?" I asked her
and began searching for the remote control.
"Sure," she said, as if she were interested,
but only if it was something she liked.
"I like movies. Is this it? The remote?"
She handed it to me. "It was right there.
That was what you were looking for, I take it?"
"Ah, thanks!" I said and turned on the T.V.
"What do you want to watch? Why don’t you pick?"
She hesitated for a moment, shrugged,
and said, "I don't know, I like horror movies."
"Horror!?" I said, shocked. "You like horror flicks!?"
"Yeah," she said, as if she wanted to laugh,
"I like horror. I watch it all the time."
"Horror it is then! They're my favorite, too!"
I scanned the menu, let her choose the movie.
We found a 'slasher,' and all throughout it,
I thought about those who might really kill,
and wondered if it could be me some day.
A Meeting in the Park
It was midday when he arrived, the park
peaceful with the bustle of light foot-traffic.
Eric approached the bench and took a seat.
He set his briefcase down next to his feet
and looked at the man who sat beside him,
suspecting it was who he'd come to meet.
"Good day to be alive," said Eric, using
the phrase that he'd been instructed to give.
"I guess it is," replied the man and looked
around the park with a casual air,
though Eric knew he was checking for a tail.
Once he felt the coast was clear the man turned
to Eric, "I assume you brought the money."
"It's all there in the briefcase," Eric said.
"I'll leave it when I go my way, as promised."
He paused and swallowed the lump in his throat,
"After this, no one has to know a thing.
All I want is to bring my daughter home."
"Oh," said the man, lowering his sunglasses
to look Eric in the eye, "you will see her
soon enough. But, I trust, you'll keep your word.
We know where you live, if you catch my drift."
"As far as I'm concerned," replied Eric,
"nothing out of the ordinary's happened.
And my boss thinks I came down ill at work."
"Good," said the man. "Try and keep it that way."
He laughed and patted Eric on the shoulder,
"It was a pleasure doing business with you.
You can leave when you want. Your job is done."
"Thanks," replied Eric then got up to go,
making sure to leave the briefcase where it was.
Hard Times
Keith heard the footsteps coming up to him
but didn't turn. He merely took another
drag from his cigarette and stared at the fire.
He didn't want to be rude and turn him
away, but it was most likely his friend,
Mason, the only friend he'd been close to
over the last few months. With any luck,
Mason would catch on that he wasn't feeling
the greatest and wanted some time alone.
"Hey," Mason said, using a quiet voice.
"It's just me. Saw you were awake and thought
you wouldn't mind a little company."
"Yeah," said Keith, unenthusiastically.
"Jessica's in the tent. She went to bed
a bit early tonight. We had a fight."
"Oh, sorry to hear that," said Mason, as
he took a seat beside Keith on the log
and began warming his hands by the fire.
"I hope it wasn't a bad one?" he asked.
"Yeah," said Keith, "pretty sure it was. We're out
of money. She's been pushing me to get
a job these past few days, you know, and I
finally told her why that just won't happen."
"You mean, you never told her about that?"
said Mason. "No wonder it was a bad fight."
"Yup," said Keith. "She knows now. I spilled my guts.
I told her everything. How I was wanted.
How I'd been on the run these past few months..."
"Dang, man," said Mason. "I feel for you, bro."
"Yeah," replied Keith, "but it gets even worse.
I told her that we might've never met
hadn't I been on the run all this time.
She went berserk and threatened to kill me.
Told me I was sleeping outside tonight."
"What are you going to do now?" asked Mason.
"Well," said Keith, flicking his cigarette butt
into the fire, "I don't know at the moment.
I want to work it out with her, but we
can't live like this forever. It's not fair
to her. But if I go turn myself in,
she would have to try and fend for herself.
And I can't let her do that on the streets.
It would worry me sick, thinking of it."
"You know what I would do?" said Mason, with
a hand on Keith's shoulder. "I'd keep on running."
"You know," Keith said and laughed, "if it were only
that easy. But we just might go for that,
if it means that we can still be together."
Last Words
He skipped that last meal, perhaps out of spite,
but said he didn't want to waste his time,
and sat in silence in the holding cell
before they led him to be executed.
When the time came, he went too willingly,
as if to say he was ready to die.
They strapped him in the chair; he was docile
but had an angry look upon his face,
brows madly furled, inside, gathering storms;
and, once asked if he had any last words,
he took a deep and violent heaving breath,
before his eyes grew wide and he said, darkly,
"Ha! Pity me the chance! But listen here!
Nobody wants to die before their time!
But it's my time, and I must pay the price,
not for my crime but for a selfish grudge!
For that, I'm almost overwhelmed with joy,
because I'll be seeing you all in Hell!"
And he laughed, such a maniacal laugh,
all the way up until they threw the switch.
The Intruder
Grace sat up in the bed and looked around.
Something had startled her and woke her up,
but what that something was she didn't know.
She waited in the darkness for a sound,
but nothing came. She watched the door; nothing.
Several minutes passed in intense silence
before she let herself relax. She sighed,
trusting to breathe again, and lay back down.
'Whatever caused it,' she thought, 'it's gone now,'
and let her head sink back into the pillow.
In the quiet she was nearly back to sleep,
when came the sudden creaking of a floorboard
out in the hallway just beyond her door.
Petrified what this might mean, she lay still
and peeked through slitted eyes at the doorway.
She watched in horror as the door cracked open
and a head draped in shadow peered inside.
Her chest grew tight making it hard to breathe,
and, against fear, she tightly closed her eyes
and fought to keep herself from trembling.
With luck the person would simply turn back,
thinking she was asleep and unaware.
She felt her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
When, suddenly, the bedroom door clicked shut
and the footsteps continued down the hall.
She lay there some time before getting up
and found herself walking an empty house.
Hitman for Hire
"Hello?" came a man's voice. He seemed impatient
like he had other business on his mind.
"Hi," said Tom. "Is this Alex Smith? I was
given your number, told you could help me."
"Sure," said the man. "That would be me, alright.
And exactly whom may I have the pleasure?"
"Uh, yeah, name's Tom. I have a job for you,
if you're interested in taking one on."
"Go on," said Alex, if really his name,
"I'm listening. You've gotten my attention."
"Yes, I have a, er, difficult situation.
I need it, rather, her, taken care of.
You're the man for the job, so I was told."
"Sure, I can do anything you need me to.
Just pay me up front and it will get done."
"Great," Tom replied. "I trust you'll be discreet?"
"Of course. I trust that you would do the same?"
"Oh, you can count on that. I need her gone,
simple as that. I can get you the money."
"Meet me tomorrow and we can talk more."
"Great, just let me know how much you want.
I'll bring it with and let you know the job."
"Awesome!" said the supposed Alex Smith.
"I can't wait, sounds like an amazing job.
But that's the last we'll ever have to talk.
Just bring me five thousand bucks, and that's it.
Call me then and we can arrange a meeting."
"I guess we needn't discuss it much further,"
said Tom, but the phone had already gone dead.
You Won't
"Hey, Matt," said Teddy, "what's that over there?
You see that thing hanging on the wall?"
And he pointed. "I don't know what it is.
It's been there all day. I think it's a bat."
Whatever it was it stuck to the bricks
and was quite odd for something out of place.
"No way," said Matthew. "I don't believe you.
What is it, really? It can't be a bat,
not here, not in the middle of the city."
Teddy reached out, put a hand on his shoulder.
"Come on," urged Teddy. "Let's go check it out!
I think it's dead, by the looks of it."
"Fine," replied Matthew, though he didn't sound
too thrilled about it, "I will if you will."
The two drew in close for a better look.
The 'thing' clung to the brick wall, motionless.
It was hairy, obviously a creature.
Matthew jumped back, "You weren't kidding, were you!?"
"I told you so," said Teddy, while he laughed.
"You think it's dead? I haven't seen it move."
A devilish grin spread across his face,
"Dare me to poke it? I will if you dare me!"
"You won't," said Matthew. "Just do it, I dare you."
"Okay," shot Teddy. "I'm not afraid of it."
As Teddy drew in, Matthew took another
step back in case the thing was still alive,
and said, "You're seriously gonna do it?"
Teddy inched closer and quickly grazed it,
then leapt back when the bat unfurled its wings,
shuddered a bit, then curled back up again.
Once they’d settled down they started laughing.
"I didn't think you'd actually do it!"
cried Matthew, patting his friend on the back.
"Hah!" Teddy said. "I told you that I would."
Saying this, he punched Matthew in the arm,
"Don't you ever dare me like that again."
The Grave Robbers
"The doc needs this here specimen," said Claud,
as he tossed up another shovel full
of dirt from where he stood inside the grave.
"Imagine what he'll be willing to pay!"
"I know, I know," said Manny, "it's the freshest
one we've seen in a fortnight. But the Watch
is out in droves, I think they're on to us."
"Quit your griping," said Claud. "We'll be rewarded
for all our troubles. Handsomely, mind you."
"Whatever," said Manny. "Let's just be quick
about it. I don't want to go to prison
for robbing graves. Just think what folks will say."
As they were arguing, Claud's shovel struck
the lid of the casket that was underneath
and his face lit up. He was overjoyed
thinking about the coin he could put to use.
"By God!" he said. "Look at what I just found!
I think it might be a treasure chest!"
"Shut it!" said Manny. "I don't like your jokes.
Hurry and clear it off so we can scram.
The sooner we get out of here the better!"
With that, he peered around keeping lookout:
no lanterns shone on the surrounding grounds,
yet he cast glances in the bright moonlight.
In seconds Claud had cleared the top of dirt
and quickly got to work prying the lid.
It creaked and crunched and soon he had it off.
Inside, there was the body of a woman.
"Look at that, Manny," said Claud. "This one here
is young and beautiful, if I do say!"
"Ah, you're making me sick," Manny shot back.
"She's dead, Claud. There's something not right with you.
Just pick her up and hand her to me, will you?"
Claud was joking, but she was beautiful.
No need to keep it to himself, he thought.
He reached down, grabbed her by the waist, and lifted
her up to hand her to his partner in crime,
when the corpse let out a startling groan
and began rustling about in his arms.
"The devil?" said Claud and quickly threw her out
onto the ground. "I think she's still alive!"
"Oh, great," said Manny. "Now what do we do?"
Claud climbed on out and stood beside his friend,
both looking down on the woman in awe.
"I think we saved her life," replied Claud. "Doc
says that sometimes they burry folks alive.
By accident, of course. But look at her!
We just saved some poor lady's life, you see!?"
She was alive, Manny couldn't deny that.
Claud kneeled down beside her and raised her head
and brushed her hair out of her face. Her eyes
flitted open and she began to stir.
Manny held his silence, too much in shock.
"Can you hear me?" asked Claud. "Ma'am, you're alright.
We're here to help. We found you when in need."
She was weakly, and when she tried to speak,
a single raspy note came out her throat,
and she fell back exhausted from the attempt.
"Come, Manny," said Claud, "let's get her to the doc."
He gently picked her up, afraid to harm
the lass, and quickly carried her away,
praying the doc could nurse her back to health.
The whole time he and Manny kept their silence,
too worried for the girl to ply their banter.
The Old Resident
I write this letter, now, in my own hand,
and I know that what I ask of you, in reading,
is to accept that which aught be impossible.
For I am dead (as I have been some time,)
and I can scarcely believe it myself that I
now hold this pen with which to leave a message;
A task I could not do before this instant,
and yet, through my persistence in the attempt,
I have managed to take one up and write.
Life is not unlike it was before I passed,
and I would think that I were still alive
were it not so that I am without a body.
Nor can I move objects (or so I thought.)
Yet, over the years, I have forgotten who
I was in life and now I seek your help.
I'm not certain what lead to my demise
but it must have happened some time ago.
Nor do I remember much about my life.
Just that I had had one and spent it here
at this precise residence for many years,
and, in the meantime, it's become your own.
I have been staying here with you as well,
and see you now and then about the house,
and wonder if you've ever felt my presence.
Yet, nothing in the day-to-day stands out.
And I had not the means to reach out to you
before today. Please, take me for a friend
And trust that I am telling you the truth,
that this has been written with all sincerity,
and that you hear me with utmost compassion:
If you have any means to help, I plead
with you to look into the residents who
had come before and stayed within the home
And see if you can find the name of one
who had passed away while living here,
so that I might come to learn my name:
That I might regain a sense of who I was,
and not feel so lost in a world I once knew."