#VSSMURDER Week Four

I appear to have been abducted by aliens on the 27th.

24 October

She left a note beside his plate: AT MOM’S. STEW IN OVEN.

By the time he got home from his floozie (did he hit her, too?) she and the kids would be halfway to Canada.

By the time the amanita #poison began unmaking his liver, she’d be safe across the border.
26 October

“I don’t hate you,” I say, mashing the pillow down, “I just need the money *now*.”

Auntie stops struggling, but I keep the pressure on until her bedside monitor shows a #flatline.

It’s nearly dawn when I hear a beep.

Another.

A strong, regular rhythm.

Laughter.
29 October

He was not a pleasant nor a kind person, but I visit his #grave regularly. Every time I do, I remember his last words, and I can’t help but smile.

“For the love of God! Let me out of this wretched box!”
30 October

We fought, again, but with more devotion this time, and at last it was decisive.

I should have seen to the wound you gave me, but it was small and I had a corpse to hide.

Now, I can watch my own #decay creep into my neck. When I next see you, I will admit you won.
Jan didn’t dare turn on a light. It was too dark to see what had grabbed Gustav, but it sounded big. 

All he had was his hunting knife.

Big, slow feet crunched leaves. Fatalism swept through him. He shrugged, then muttered, “Might as well take a #stab at it.”
28 October

I drink champagne with my foe. With each draught from the magnum, I kiss the one whose sole pursuit was destroying my joys.

Unreciprocated kisses. I press my lips to the hole in base of his polished #skull. When it’s empty, I will smash my cup, à la manière Russ.
Footnote to 28 October - At no point so I refer to a bottle in the preceding (image of the underside of a human skull, labelled for anatomy; the hole for the spinal cord to pass through, highlighted, is the foramen magnum)
31 October

The tree had heard generations of foolishness about its nourishment. It found the short-lived peoples’ disgust funny. 

Sundown. Up through the tree’s fibres, the #dead rushed skyward for their yearly frolic. It was their joy that sustained the tree.

(Image: A large tree, without leaves, standing in a small graveyard. Image provided by Twitter user @vsspic)

“#VSSMURDER Week Four” ©2020 Dirck de Lint, although I’m well aware that Twitter will do as it pleases with the content, since it appears on their platform. Tree photograph is not mine. Also, that image lifted from Britannica has it’s own copyright bug, and certainly isn’t mine.