I was stepping out of the shower when I first took a whiff of the ungodly stink that almost made me upchuck my breakfast. Every locker room in the world has a moldy mushroom B.O. stink, but this rot was nothing like that. I heard by the lockers someone was hurling into a trashcan. As i walked closer, the pungent smell got worse. A group of guys were changing into their street clothes like the they were auditioning to be The Flash. But one man, one I dont think ive ever seen before, was taking his time. He casually changed from jeans to sweatpants like nothing was wrong in the world. I changed and left.

The next day at the gym was good. No bad smell in the locker room. I was changing after my workout when the stranger entered the room. He was quite older, slightly pudgy but seemed like a nice gentleman. But once his pants fell to the ground, the rotten cheese in a moldy fruit trashcan funk filled the room. I began to cough and the others around me began to make small remarks. I looked at the stranger and he looked to be smiling.

I walked to the front counter and asked for a manager. I told him about the man in the locker room, but he said nothing could be done. I didn't come back for a week.

When I did, it was of desperation. It was the only good gym in the city that didnt charge your soul every month. I walked in the locker room and a huddle of guys were by the showers. They heard me and all heads turned to see who it was. One guy waved me over.

The plan was to strip the guy and throw him in a shower. They drew straws to see who would scrub him. Lucky it wasn't me. Then we waited.

The wait wasn’t long when he walked in and saw the group. The director of the wash lynch grabbed him but there was no struggle. But he did plea for us to stop.

One guy grabbed the stranger’s shirt and another gripped his pants. They came off and the familiar smell filled the room. They pushed him to the shower. The unfortunate scrubber stood there waiting. It was also his job to take off the stinky one’s underwear.

With one pull, the underwear was down. Everyone had take a step back in disgusting fright. Not only was the man’s penis covered in a milky white loin cloth of ricotta cheese gunk, but it followed under his taint and in his ass crack. He stared down in shame. Like a child caught with candy before dinner. After only a moment, he lifted his head with a smirk.

He said we can't touch him, unless we want it too. Some of us vomited on the floor making no effort for a trashcan. The wash lynch director grabbed the man by his hair and threw him in the shower. I tried to tell him to stop but the words never left my mouth.

The shower heads detached from the walls. The director stood over the man and sprayed him with almost boiling hot water. The cheese man cried while being hosed down.

When it was over. The cheese man walked out crying. I never saw the director again until I heard he killed himself. I heard you could smell his apartment from a block away.

Cindy was packed and ready for the drive to her grandparent’s house. Her mother, Nancy, was finishing blow drying her hair when Cindy walked in the bathroom.

“Mom, are you almost done?”

“Makeup, then we’ll be off. Don’t give me that look, I haven’t seen them in a while either sweetie.”

“Can you put some makeup on me too? I wanna look pretty!” Cindy said. Her hands were

balled up to make a single fist in prayer.

“Absolutely not young lady, you’re only six!” Nancy said turning off the hair dryer. “Now, go get your shoes on, let’s go.”

Cindy pouted and went to go get her shoes on. They were bright yellow to match her

canary dress. Cindy loved bright colors. She waited at the door with her Dora rolling pack. Her

mother was always late for everything and visiting her parents were no exception.

After another long twenty minutes Cindy’s mother was finally ready to go. Her

grandparent’s lived far away and rarely visited them. She loved their big house and big backyard.

They had lots of fun stuff to play with, but the thing she loved the most was her grandma’s garden. Grandma was a collector of rare flowers. Most were from really far away places, and

looked really cool!

The car ride was boring. Nancy hated music, so they sat in silence. Every time Cindy

would turn on the radio, Nancy would turn it off. “I am trying to concentrate.” she would mutter

after slamming the off button. Sometimes she didn’t like her mommy.

They finally arrived to the big yellow house that was her grandparent’s. The house sat on

several acres of secluded land. No neighbors for quite a distance, just how Nancy’s dad liked it. Outside waiting in a rocker on the wrap around porch was grandma. She was pudgy old woman

with a white perm and round rimless spectacles wearing a pink flower ridden nightgown. She

saw her girls and waved.

“Hi mom, where’s dad?” Nancy asked before climbing the stairs.

Grandma took a sip of her iced tea, the glass was sweaty with condensation. “Well we are

going to have to talk about that. My sweet precious,” she said to Cindy, “how about you go look

at my garden. I have some really cool new flowers. See if you can pick some good tomatoes

while you’re at it.”

“YES!” Cindy nearly screamed. The garden was the best part of the visits.

Grandma got up from the rocking chair and walked inside. Nancy grabbed Cindy’s roller

pack and followed her inside. Cindy ran around the house into the back where the gardens were.

The backyard was a jungle of bushes, trees and flowers. There was no real order of where things

grew, one row would be white rose bushes, one row would be blueberries. She walked along the

rows looking for the new flowers. Several rows in she found some very pretty orange flowers

with pedal the size of her! She touched the carrot colored fans and found they were soft as silk.

She bent over and smelled the white sticks that stuck out of the middle of the flowers. It smelled

like vanilla. She started back examining the rows of colorful fruits and flowers. The last row she

saw had metal cones sticking out of the dirt with green leafs and spots of red. Tomatoes! She

walked to them and examined for ripe ones to pick. But further down in the field, where the grass

was not kept and overgrown, she saw something dance in the wind. Something crimson specking

out of the grass. She walked towards the deep red hidden in the grass that was taller than herself.

“Cindy! Cindy!” someone was calling from the house. She stopped before she got close

to the hiding plants. She turned around and saw her grandmother at the back door waving her to

come in.

She walked through the backdoor and into the kitchen. The walls had hand painted grapes

and vines that grandma had painted herself. The appliances were older than her mother and were

weird colors they don’t sell anymore. The fridge looked like the inside of and avocado. Nancy

was at the dining table sobbing into a tissue. She didn’t notice her daughter pull up into the chair

next to her.

“Want any tea, Cindy?” Grandma asked. Cindy nodded and grandma poured a small

glass. “Do you know what it means when someone passes away?”

“Yeah, they go to sleep forever and go to heaven.” Cindy says.

“Very good. Now I need to tell you something sweetie. Your grandfather passed away about two weeks ago. He’s in heaven now.”

Cindy took a sip of her tea and said, “Ok. can I go outside again?”

“Yes.” Her mother said through her hands. Cindy got up and ran outside. “Why didn’t

you say anything, he was my father! No funeral? No memorial? Nothing? Why mom?” she

began to cry again.

“He didn’t want a big thing about it. He wanted to just be buried and that be that. I knew

you were visiting soon and I would tell you now. I’m sorry.” She looked out the kitchen window

and saw Cindy approaching the roses she was trying to hid.

Cindy walked to the mystery in the grassy field slowly. She was curious but also

cautious. The tall grass bent under her feet as she walked, finally unveiling what it was hiding. A small short bush of deep, almost black, red roses stood in the field. She approached the bush to

smell the flowers. Cindy bent to get a good whiff but they didn’t smell like any flower she ever

sniffed. They smelled like pennies, coppery and sharp. She looked at the rose closely, gazing at

the pedals. They were beading with moisture. She took a finger and wiped the dew off a pedal.

The liquid was red, leaving her finger looking as if it was cut.

“Those are my blood roses.” Grandma said behind her. “If something dies near them, the

vines wrap around the body and suck up all the blood pushing it up to the pedals. This is where

your grandfather is buried. I couldn’t put him somewhere too far where I couldn’t visit.” she bent

down near Cindy’s face, “Don’t say a word about that to your mother. Understand?”

Cindy looked into her grandmother’s glasses and responded with a innocent, “Yep.”

Cindy started back to the house, “They are pretty grandma, I love them. But I’m hungry.”

“I’ll make us some lunch then.” Grandma said, following her granddaughter.

“Where is he?” asked Nancy over supper.

“In the backyard.” her mother responded.

“Are you serious mother? How could you do that? He needs a proper burial at a real

cemetery! I just can not believe you would be so selfish to do something like that. I think I’m

going to be sick.” Nancy cupped her hand over her mouth and jogged to the bathroom.

“It’s ok grandma, she’s always mean.” Cindy said with a mouthful of chicken.

“Hmm, I have and idea.” and grandma told her the idea.

,The next morning Cindy was the first to awake. She crept downstairs to make her own

bowl of cereal and ate quickly. She rushed out the door to the blood roses to sit with her

grandfather and admire their beautiful deep color. When she approached the roses that morning,

the deep rich red colors were gone, replaced by a pastel pink. It reminded Cindy of Easter.

Cindy still sat in the grass and talked to her buried grandfather about how she hated

school. After while, she heard the back door slam shut and saw her mother following grandma.

Grandma looked fine, but her mother was crying. What a baby! Cindy stood up and waved to

them. Grandma waved back and gave a wink.

“Looks like they lost some color, huh?” Grandma asked Cindy.

Cindy nodded and gave her a wink.

“So this is dad? Under the roses?” asked Nancy, weeping into her sleeve.

“Yes, hun. But the roses look a little pink. I think they might be thirsty.” said her mother.

“They look fine to me.” said Nancy stroking a rose. She then felt a hot sharp pain in her

lower back. Cindy pulled out the knife from her mother and pushed it back in another spot.

Nancy was too shocked and in too much agony to say anything. Cindy pulled out the knife again

and handed it to grandma.

“You need to hit a vital area for the kill, hun. She won’t die quickly in those spots.” she

then jabbed the blade into Nancy’s throat. “There, there’s the sweet spot.” and yanked it out.

Nancy fell to the ground with a hard thump, bleeding into the grass. The soft dirt began to

rumble under their feet. Cindy and grandma backed away a couple paces and watched as the

earth broke open. Black vines spilled out of the dirt like tentacles and wrapped around Nancy’s

bloody body, pulling her in. The dirt rumbled and the vines disappeared.

“This is the best part, hun, look!” Grandma pointed to the roses. Slowly the beautiful

deep color came back into the pedals. Cindy shed one tear, it was worth this beauty. “Now let’s

go try on some makeup, I have a really nice shade of red lipstick for you to try.”

Dr. Samuel Miller walked out of the operating room and snapped off his latex gloves into

the trash. Smiling, he walked down the maze of corridors into the waiting room of poor little

Daniel Robert’s family who were waiting to hear the news.

“Everything went great,” he said to the gawk eyed family. “The appendix is out and your

boy should be out in a day or two.” Everyone had a bright smile and formed a group hug around

the doctor. Sam loved this part of the job.

After the family let go and Sam could breath again, he stepped outside to have a cigarette

and check his phone. He had only one text. It was from his father’s nurse who had been watching

him for a good three years now while he withered away. He savored his smoke break before

heading inside to tell his boss he has a family emergency and won’t be back for a week, week

and a half at most.

Dr. Miller packed lightly, a few shirts, a couple pairs of shorts and his necessary sundries.

He didn’t expect to stay at his father’s more than a few days. A funeral would be unnecessary.

The thought of being at the farm for more than a couple days made him shiver with goosebumps.

He packed up his top of the line navy blue Ford pick-up and put the pedal to the metal. Dr

Sam whistled every tune he knew that the radio played. It was as if the radio knew to play his

favorite songs. He’s never yearned to see a dying man in all his life, it scared him a little thinking

about what he was going to do. Sam drove a little faster each time he thought he might be too

late to see the last breath.

The five hour drive concluded at the Miller Berry Farm sign that sat above two heavily

rusted poles. He sat in his car and took in the once familiar sights that was his childhood home.

From what he could tell, not a soul has taken care of the now brown and bare berry bushes that

stretched out for what seemed like miles in his Father’s field. They were once plump with the

sweetest and juiciest berries in the state. His father’s famous scarecrows were down which

explained the bareness. Crows had always been a problem.

Sam drove up the driveway towards the home. The memories that rushed his mind were a

wringing torture of his brain. A tear fell down his left cheek.

Bobby Miller raised Sam alone as his wife died after childbirth of their one and only. Bob never

much liked Sam because of it and let him know. The beatings and the twelve hour days in the hot

summer sun working the fields were a cakewalk compared to the other thing he had to do for his

father. He sandbagged the time in the fields not wanting to go inside for he knew his father was

waiting for him. When Sam saw the empty whiskey bottle on the kitchen counter, he knew it was

going to be a bad night. After years of torture, a prestigious medical school took him in on a full

scholarship. He never saw his father again.

Sam parked his beautiful blue truck next to his father’s rusted green one. On the other

side of the rust bucket was parked a old Chevy that must of belonged to Kathy. He hopped onto

the gravel and started towards the barely hanging screen door. Greeting him in the kitchen was

his father’s nurse, Kathy. She wore a green nurse's uniform with a white name tag above her left

breast. Her hair was in a twisted high bun making her closer to god. She was smoking a cigarette

above the kitchen sink, blowing the blue smoke out the window above as he entered the door.

“I’ll take care of him from here.” Sam said taking out a pack of his own. “Thank you so

much for taking care of my pop for me”

“My pleasure.” she said with a raspy smoker’s voice. She stomped out the butt of the

cancer stick into the ashtray seated next to the sink. Kathy grabbed her purse hanging off the

chair next to Sam and walked out.

Sam watched her back out of her spot in the drive and take off leaving a cloud of dirt and

gravel. He had a grin from ear to ear as he heard the heart monitor beep in the next room. Still

kickin’ baby.

He walked down the hall past the poorly lit and poorly furnished living room. The worn

wood of the floor creaked under the weight of himself. The first door on the left was his father’s.

He stopped just before the doorframe, scared to see his father sitting in his bed waiting for his

son to arrive and give him another go. His father was strong, even in Sam’s later years at the

house. Father always overpowered him.

Sam stepped around into the room of his dying father. There he was , not sitting, but

lying in a hospice bed. Bob was catatonic staring through the blank ceiling of the house. The smell of rot was in the air. His mouth hung slightly open, the stench of the room was coming

from his black diseased gums. His teeth had all but fallen out leaving pink open sockets. His

breaths were regular but rocked his body. He sounded as if being punched in the throat with each

breath. Sam knew death was near.

Sam stood over the once burly, tall man now gaunt and withered. Next to the bed was a

rocking chair where the nurse sat and read magazines and texted boyfriends. In the chair sat a

fresh pillow waiting to be soiled. Sam slowly grasped the pillow and held it in his hands only for

a moment. Tears started to form making the world seem cloudy and warped. He placed the

pillow on the face of his opened mouthed father pressing down in a silent rage. The body started

to slightly shake and slither. Sam was ashamed for what he was doing, but the memories started

to flood his mind and the shame turned into determination.

The machines went from a berserk musical to only a continuous note. He was dead. Sam

removed the pillow to see the face that once abused him sexually and physically. The dead neck

muscles released causing Bob’s head to snap to the side towards the doorway. This freaked Sam

and he gave a slight shriek into the empty house.

Gathering his thoughts, he walked into the kitchen and looked up the closest funeral

home on his phone. He told the director that no funeral would be needed, just a cremation would

suffice. After the short conversation ending with unfelt condolences from the funeral director,

Sam called a local realtor.

That night, after Big Bob was out of the house and possibly being roasted, Sam tucked

away into his old childhood bed where he fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow.

Sam opened his eyes crusted from sleep. Burning rot hung in the air of his bedroom. He

looked up at his charred father hovering above him smiling, baring all his old yellow teeth. Sam

wiped away the dried gunk and saw not yellow teeth, but yellow worms protruding from his

tooth sockets wiggling in and out.

“Oh, big man you are, aren't cha? You want a piece of me now hot shot?” cried his

cooked dead father, “I’ll teach you something you little shit.” Big Bob moaned. Bob’s black

fingers crackled as they reached for Sam’s throat.

Sam jumped awake from this dream early the next morning. Out the window he saw the

tip of the sun hanging out from the horizon of dead berry bushes. He sat in his own sweat

breathing fast. Just a dream, he thought to himself. Just a dream.

Killing time walking around the farm, Sam noticed a flock of crows sitting on the rusted

gutters that nestled the house. There’s nothing for them here, everything is dead, thought Sam.

Maybe they smell the death from the house?

Sam walked through the dead bushes east of the house towards the old barn. It was never

a big luxurious barn you see in movies or paintings, it was more like a really big shed. He

opened the steel lock with a key he found from atop of the counter. The hinges sang a sad tune as

he opened the door. He stepped inside, crunching old dry hay with each step. A single light bulb

hung from the ceiling with a long bead string. Sam pulled the string, lighting the small barn. He

found himself surrounded by half a dozen old, tattered scarecrows, impaled on sticks standing

like wounded soldiers in attention.

Sam remembers helping make most of them, a few his father must have made himself.

He grabbed his favorite, remembering his father taking him to town to pick out some cheap

clothes to make it. It was one of the few good memories he had of his father. The scarecrow

wore a blue and yellow plaid shirt with green corduroy pants. Very fashionable. The hat was

missing though, a big straw sunhat. Where did that go? He thought. Must of gotten old and came

apart.

A chirpy bird tune went off in Sam’s pocket which made him jump almost dropping the

now fragile straw man. He answered the funeral home, who told him his loved one was available

for pick-up.

Sam placed the urn filled with his father in the backseat, the front was already taken by a

sixer of expensive German beer. He drove through town taking in the memories of his childhood

past. Most stores were the same, only few have been updated. The diner where him and Janice,

his long childhood crush, would go and get milkshakes after school was long gone. Where it

once stood was now a cheap fast food restaurant with big golden arches. It was unfortunate, he

would of loved a tall chocolate shake right about now.

Sam made it back to the farm around four o’clock. Beer and daddy in hand, he walked

the dirt path to the house. He placed the sixer in the fridge and dialed a close pizza delivery

service. When he hung up the phone, an idea popped in his head but quickly brushed it away. He

thought it would be too silly. He was going to be gone in couple days after the realtor made a

visit.

After a few beers and a belly full of extra mushroom pizza, his idea didn’t seem very silly

anymore. Sam walked to his father’s bedroom to gather clothes. He found a nice pair of unripped

jeans in a tall oak dresser and a sharp almost new red and black flannel shirt from the closet.

At six o’clock the sun started it’s descend into the horizon. Sam stood outside by the barn

ripping a haggard scarecrow off it’s cross of old lumber. The innards of old hay dusted the

ground of dry dirt. Beside the barn’s sidewall rested the tin filled with Bob’s remains. Sam took

the empty cross and leaned it against the barn. He took his father’s clothes from under his armpit,

tied the ends, and began to fill them with straw. He took his pocket knife and cut a hole in the

butt of the jeans to slide the pole in.

“Like that DAD? HMMM?” as he stuck the pole through. He grabbed a small burlap sack

and drew eyes, a nose, and mouth. Sam stuck the head on top of the scarecrow, but he knew

something was missing. He placed the fresh scarecrow against the barn and rushed back to the

house. Still heavily buzzed from the beer, he tripped over his own feet entering through the

kitchen. He slowly got back to his feet and shuffled to his father’s bedroom. He opened the

closet and placed a hand on top of the cluttered shelf. His hand touched and moved boxes

around. He knew it was up there dammit. Finally he found his dad’s old red trucker hat. The bill

was frayed and back mesh was a little ripped but it would do. He walked back to the scarecrow crumpled hat in hand. He opened the sizer pegs to its

highest setting and Sam placed it on the burlap head. The scarecrow jerked.

“Just the wind. Yep, I'm drunk.” He picked up the urn and placed it under his arm like a

basketball. He then picked up the scarecrow by the pole that made its spine. It seemed a little

heavier that it should of been, but passed it off from the booze. He walked towards the house and

stabbed it the ground between two blackberry bushes. Sam placed the urn in both hands and

looked at it for only a moment. He unscrewed the top which made a small pop noise . A small

puff of gray smoke burped out of the aluminum vessel. Sam dumped the ashes out onto the base

of the scarecrow and shook out the remenants. He kicked the urn back towards the barn and put

his hands up to make a touchdown gesture. Sam turned back to the scarecrow and unzipped his

pants, and urinated on the ashes.

The next morning, Sam awoke on the couch with a great hangover. He got up to get some

water and possibly make some coffee. He walked into the kitchen and let out a small scream

when he saw the scarecrow leaning against the counter next to the coffee pot.

“What the..” he whispered to himself. He brushed it off. Maybe he blacked out and

brought it in thinking it was funny. It wasn’t. Sober, it was pretty damn creepy. He grabbed the

scarecrow and burst through the door into the sunny morning. His eyes felt as though they

exploded once he stepped out, but the thing needed to go.

He jammed it into the ground facing the barn and started back to the house. Crows lined

the house watching him. Sam approached the door to the kitchen and took a glance back to the

scarecrow. It was looking back at him. Damn wind, he thought.

That night after another large pizza and another several beers, he staggered to his old

bedroom and sank into his bed. Sleep took him almost instantly.

Something tapped him on his chest and woke him up. Still slightly intoxicated he felt

around his torso to find what hit him. He grabbed the object but couldn’t make it out as his eyes

were still adjusting to the darkness. Finally making it out, it was his father’s red trucker hat.

Stripes of straw gently floated down onto his hands. He heard rustling to his right in the

darkness. Looking up he saw the scarecrow of his father standing above him. The scarecrow face now looked alive and menacing. It looked at him hungrily, straw drool dripping out of its mouth.

Sam knew that look. The scarecrow lifted its arms making a dry crunch.

“Dont worry son. Daddys got you.” It said. The voice had a dry rasp, sounding like dry

leaves crunching under a childs foot.

“This is just another dream. Yep. Just another dream.” Sam said filling with hot fear.

The next morning, June Feller woke up early. She had an seven o’clock appointment to

see a farmhouse. She was new to the real estate business, getting her license just a month ago.

This would be her first big sell.

She took a hot shower, got dressed, and kissed her husband, who was still asleep,

goodbye. She pecked him on the forehead to not wake him. Todd was grumpy in the morning.

June then grabbed her purse and took off in the new family van.

Forgetting to eat, June stopped at a fast food joint for breakfast. There was time to kill, so

she went inside to fill up on some egg and sausage biscuit sandwiches.

She made her way down to Miller Farm that stood just outside of town. She remembered

eating their plump berries when she was a child. She and her mother would go to the market

every other saturday and buy a bushel of their sweet blackberries. Her mother made the best

blackberry pie she’s ever eaten. But they haven't had a harvest in years and hoped she could sell

it to someone who could keep that tradition going.

She drove up to the open gate that read Miller Berry Farm. It really needed a new coat of

paint. June parked next to a very nice pick up truck that must of belonged to Sam, the one she

spoke to on the phone the other day. She got out of her car and used her fob to lock it. The beep

startled some crows that lingered on the gutters of the house. She looked up and saw a few dozen

staring at her. They need a scarecrow or something! She thought. She looked into the fields and

didn’t see one in the field of bushes. The side door was slightly open, but she knocked. No

answer. She knocked again which opened the door even more. The smell from inside was awful.

Shit and rot wisped through the door opening. Oh no. June walked in and followed the smell

through the kitchen, through the hall, and down to the last room on the right.

June peeked through the door and saw a mangled naked body. Sam laid there on his

stomach with his ass in the air. It looked as if the man in the bed swallowed a hay bomb. Dry

poured out of his mouth and rear end. His eyes were missing, filled with the golden scarecrow

stuffing. Three crows stood on top of the body cawing at June as she entered the room. She put

her hand to her stomach and vomited half digested egg and sausage biscuit sandwiches onto the

floor. Horrified, June rushed out of the house and into her car. She fumbled through her purse to

find her phone. She dialed the police with trembling fingers to report the body. While talking to

the dispatcher explaining what she found, in the field of bushes she noticed something she was

sure wasn’t there just a few minutes ago. By the small barn a scarecrow with a red trucker hat

stood looking at her. It looked as if it was smiling.

“Buck forty nine.” said the man behind the counter. He was dressed in red plaid

and apparently trying to grow a patchy beard.

Steve Hargrove took out his leather wallet from his back pocket and placed two

singles on the metal groove. The man behind the counter dug out two quarters and a

penny from the cash tray and slid them to Steve.

“Headed out huntin’?” asked the cashier.

“What gave it away?” Steve replied with a smile. He was dressed in deep green

camo overalls and a bright orange longsleeve shirt with a camo hat to match.

“They say it’s good huntin’ this year. Just don't shoot anyone!” The cashier spat

out a laugh. “I’ve been seein’ lots of huntin’ folk gettin’ supplies today.”

“I’ll try not to. Thanks.” said Steve grabbing his cherry cola off the counter.

His father in law Terry, and best friend Beau, was waiting in the van already

sipping their recently bought refreshments and refilling their bladders. The hunting spot

was only a few miles away, but it’s been a long drive. The side door was slid back and

Terry was in the back seat polishing his rifle.

“That’s not loaded, right?” asked Steve.

“Think I’m retarded?” Terry said not looking up. He was up there in age, but not

in mind. His glasses were so thick they could probably set a dog on fire it the sun hit

them right.

“Well….” Steve said avoiding eye contact.

“Fuck in the car, lets go.” said Beau from the driver's seat, hanging out of the mini

van. His bright orange beanie looking like a baby bottle nipple on top of his head.

Steve slide the door shut, seeing Beau’s big face on the side and in big letters

“BIG BEAU’S PAINTING SERVICE.” He then walked around and got in. He cracked

open his cherry cola and drank, enjoying the fizzy feeling in his throat. His swallow was

garnished by a small burp.

Most of the drive consisted of oldie rock ‘n’ roll and farts sounding like they were

coming from a ship horn. Shit talk about who was going to bag the biggest buck finally

ended. On the last bit of road, the car was silent. The men daydreamed about the kill.

Pointing their guns at the defenceless creature, aiming for the heart and pulling the

trigger. Kill was inevitable. Deer was said to be plentiful this year.

They arrived at the gaming area at nine in the morning. The three hour drive was

well worth it. Venison would be on the menu at home for weeks! Only a few other trucks

and a couple vans stood in the lot next to the woods. The weather was chilly, but not

cold. Fresh brown leaves littered the lot. Beau brought a flask of bourbon “Just in case

we get really cold.” but he always carried it on him.

Beau opened the back latch of the mini van grabbing the hard plastic case that

held his rifle, and Steve grabbed his. Both were nothing fancy. The three slung their

weapons across their backs and began their trek into the woods. Steve lead the pack.

They walked a path that was well worn, but after about a quarter mile, they made their

way into unmarked soil. The trees were spread apart enough to not lose the main path

and not get too lost.

A thunderous boom went off half a mile north of them. Steve stopped holding up

his right hand to signal the others to follow suite. He gestured left and started in that

direction. Leaves crunched under their boots and the occasional branch snapped. Steve

held up his hand in stop signal to the others. Everything was quiet.

“What?” Terry whispered.

Steve pointed up ahead. In the distance was a beautiful six or eight point buck,

he couldn’t tell from this distance. It was licking a salt lick someone else put up.

“ I’m surprised you didn’t see that thing a mile away with those coke bottle

glasses you’re wearing.” Beau whispered. Terry threw up a middle finger.

Steve waited just a moment before holding up his rifle to aim. He waited another

moment to see if the provider of the salt lick was waiting for his trap to work. No shots

yet. The deer was licking away at the tasty last treat not knowing it’s last moments on

earth were approaching. Steve put his finger on the trigger. One eye was closed and the

other on the sights. The nub was aimed to the heart of the deer. The distance was a bit

far but if they kept approaching, it would likely hear them and take off. It could be their

only chance. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead to his brow. He slowly squeezed

the trigger and his gun went off with a loud bang. Miss.

The deer jumped and ran into the woods.

“You stupid shit. How did you miss that thing?” asked Terry.

“Oh shut it, that thing was far away you old fuck.” said Beau

“I could of hit that thing a mile away you stupid fuck.” said Terry.

“Whatever, let’s just keep going. It’s still early.” said Steve, bummed and a little

embarrassed. They trekked into the wood where the deer hauled ass. Hopefully he

didn’t go too far.

They walked for two hours into to wood and didn’t see one deer. They heard

chattering from another group to their left and went the opposite direction.

“Fucks just getting drunk and wandering in the woods scaring off all the deer.”

said Terry on a low whisper.

It was almost sunset by the time they started to give up.

“I’m starvin, let’s go to that diner we passed up on the way here. Looked pretty

good.” said Terry

“Yeah, let’s go man, we can come back next week.” Said Beau.

“Shhhhhh” Terry pointed up ahead. A deer was eating something off the ground.

It was definitely closer than the one from earlier. An easy target. Steve slowly brought

up his gun.

“I got this one.” said Terry

After that moment, the deer was gone. It didn’t run away, just poof, gone. Steve

turned around and saw that he was alone in the wood. No trace of Beau or Terry. The

sun was no longer setting. It was straight up in the sky, high noon.

Steve turned back to where the deer was in the trees. To his amazement there

were no deer, there was a black school bus. The bus stood in the woods surrounded by

trees, how the hell did it get there? Steve thought. The bus was short like the ones that

picked up special kids in the mornings, but shorter. He saw only two windows on the

side, one for a passenger and one for the driver. Each were blacked out. The bus was

pitch black speckled with what looked like white paint. Dark purple exhaust whipped out

of the back but Steve couldn’t hear the motor run. In fact, he didn’t hear anything. No

rustles from the trees, no crackle of leaves under his boots, the world was muted. He

cleared his throat, he could hear that.

“Hhh..hello?” Steve said into the quietness. There was no reply.

He started to walk towards the bus in a slow cautious pace. He looked into the

trees. No birds cawing, no wind rustling branches, nothing. He finally approached the

bus and looked into its trippy paint job. It was a galaxy of stars that seemed to move on

its own. A comet whizzed by as he put his hand on the side. BONK went the horn on

bus, making Steve jump. It scared him, but he never felt his pulse race.

He walked around the space bus to the door. Steve knocked on the plastic that

was also blacked out. The door swung open to show a beautiful blonde woman in the

driver seat. She was dressed in a black hoodie, black gloves and black jeans. Her look

was goth chic, yet her makeup was colorful. Ruby red lipstick, and light blue eye

shadow perfectly applied.

“Well, Hi Steven Hargrove.” she said with a smile from ear to ear. “My name is

Sharon and I’ll be your driver today.”

“Driver? Driver for wh..”

“Do you have any money on you? Coin would be fantastic.” she said with another

beautiful smile.

Awestruck from her beauty, he dug into his pockets. He felt the ridges of two

quarters deep in his pocket and took them out.

“Perfect! I would of hated leaving you here.” she held out her hand and the

quarters jumped out of Steve’s hand and into Sharon’s. They disappeared as they

touched her palm and she put her hands back on the wheel. “Come on up and take your

seat. Im sure you have a question or two.” she laughed at this as Steve made his way

up the stairs.

Steve took the only seat right behind the driver. Still giggling, she closed the door

and put the car into drive. Steve glanced out the window and saw Terry and Beau

standing twenty yards away. They were standing over a person lying in the leaves and

dirt. The person’s back of the head looked like an exploded party favor. Like the one

where you pull the string and the confetti pops out. Only instead of confetti, brain and

skull was littered around his best friend and father in law. Terry had his hat pulled off

and on his chest while Beau took a few steps away and vomited next to a tree. Steve

now knew what was happening.

“Im dead, huh?” asked Steve still looking at the window.

“Smart one you are.” Sharon said turning around in her seat. “I usually have to

explain it a few times before people finally get it.”

“So, where are we going?” asked steve

“Well that’s not really up to me now is it? It depends on how good you were. I just

drive, then we’ll just end up where you belong.” Sharon turned back around and started

to drive. The bus passed through the trees as if they were nothing. Passing through like

they were a dream. “Where do you think were going to go?” she asked “The shiny

golden palace of Heaven or the stinky sulfur hot miserable place you would call Hell?

Everyone has their own idea of what the afterlife is. Valhalla, Paradise, Moksha,

Nirvana, Heaven, it’s all pretty much the same. Except Hell, that varies from soul to

soul. Depends on how terrible you were.”

Steve thought about that for a moment. He’s done good things his whole life.

Charity during the holidays, giving homeless change when he had it, even once he went

to a hospital to read to kids with cancer. Heaven for sure. But, there was that one thing

that has haunted him for a pretty long time. “I’m not really sure.”

Sharon looked at him from her rear view mirror. “Well we have a little bit before

we get there. Think about it. Let me know. Have anything to get off your chest?”

Steve didn’t answer. Just stared out of the window. Outside started to change.

He saw outside turned into his own view. He was looking at the cashier when he got his

cherry cola just a few hours ago.

“Whats going on?”

“Well we're going to relive your life! One last walk down memory lane before you

make your decision!” Sharon said. She seemed very excited.

Decision? Steve looked out the window again. The memory was a few years ago.

He was at a job site painting a new restaurant. Steve was bent over a toilet in the

bathroom while Beau was fucking him from behind.

“Naughty boys! You cheated on your wife with another man! Being gay isn’t

against the rules, but cheating is a no no with the Big Guy upstairs.” Sharon said. The

smile never leaving her face.

“It was only a few times.” Steve told his lap. He looked out again and saw himself

spooning hot soup into bowls at St. Agatha’s, a local homeless shelter.

“Well that’s mighty kind of you.” Sharon said. As she said it, Steve walked to the

back of the kitchen where the soups were warming up in large pots. He rubbed his

sweaty armpit with a clean ladle he grabbed off a shelf and began to stir the pot.

Sharon turned and gave Steve a “tisk tisk” look and shaking her head.

Steve began to shudder when they got to a new memory. It was a house party.

College kids were everywhere wearing shirts adorned with a picture of a roaring bear

with the name, Alana College, written on the bottom.

“This was my frat. We had a party every weekend. We sometimes had too much

fun.”

The memory showed Steve at the keg in the kitchen pouring foam and gold piss

water into the cup of a girl who was far too drunk to keep drinking. She looked like she

was already asleep standing up. Her red hair was half in her face and her makeup was

smeared. Little Steven was saying something to her and she nodded.

“Her name was Sarah something. I’m so sorry.” Steve placed his hand on his

eyes and began to weep.

He took the pretty redhead's hand and lead her through the party towards the

stairs. Along the way a few jock types slapped him high five and cheered. They climbed

the stairs and into Steve’s bedroom. She collapsed into his bed and instantly passed out

face down, spilling her half filled beer. Her skirt hiked up and Steve could see her pink

panties. He began to take off his belt.

In the bus, Steve began, “She got pregnant and kept the kid. Her parents made

her, some big religious types. She never spoke to me after the fact, I don’t think she

remembered who she was with. I’m going to Hell, huh?”

“Yeah,” Sharon said through her big grin. It was here where she reminded him of

The Joker from the Batman comics he grew up reading. “But I like to remind people of a

third option. It’s no Heaven, but it sure beats the hell out of Hell.”

Steve Hargrove stared into her beautiful blue eyes as she explained the third

option. He wished he could stay on the bus with her a bit longer and just look at her. But

he could see something start to manifest a ways away in front of the bus. It looked like a

doorway to very bright room. He noticed outside was pitch black and speckled with fine

white dots. They were somewhere in what looked like deep space, somewhere where

Earth was long gone.

“So, what do you say? Eternal torture, or eternal isolation?”

The smell of sulfur began to creep into the cab of the bus. He could begin to hear

light yelps of tortured souls.

“Times almost up, you should choose now you little fucking rapist.” That’s when

Sharon’s face began to change. Her beautiful skin, lips and blue eyes began to melt away dripping onto the floor. She pulled up the black hood from her jacket and took off

her gloves to show her bone fingers. She pointed at Steven, an inch from his nose and

said, “Choose.” in a deep hard voice.

Steve heard murmur around him. He looked around the bus and seen it had

grown into a massive carriage. Hundreds of people surrounded him, all were fresh dead

on their way to judgment. He saw people with unnatural crooked necks with rope burns,

old men and women with their jaws slacked, some had half their heads blown away. He

noticed the vision from his left eye was completely gone. He placed his hand to where it

used to be and felt most of the left side of his head was mangled. Steve could feel soft

brain pouring out of his socket. He turned to face forward and found Sharon’s skull

inches from his face.

“They’re all doomed to live in constant suffering forever. Just as you are.” she

said.

Steve stood up from his chair. His feet couldn’t feel the floor, his whole body felt

like it didn’t exist. He walked up to the folding door of the bus and tried to push it open. It

didn’t budged. He turned and faced Sharon in the driver’s seat. She slowly placed her

hand on Steve’s face. Her bones were impossibly cold. The hard, cold hand gave one

slight shove and Steve was pushed into the darkness.

Steve Hargrove found himself in nothingness. There were no sounds and no

sights. Only black. He tried to open his eyes, but they no longer existed. He tried to

open his mouth to scream, but that too no longer existed. He no longer existed. His

conscious mind drifted in the nothingness left alone with only his thoughts.

The heated rain from the showerhead poured down Randy’s neck and streamed

down his back. He clenched his bare chest with his eyes closed enjoying the hot steamy

shower. Some wack ass shit, he thought to himself.

He took a hit of some new powdered drug that everyone was raving about. It was

said that some people lost their grip with reality, but most just felt a very pleasing high.

Just then, he had a bad itch under his wet scalp. It felt as if a roach was crawling in his

skin. He placed his finger at the spot and began to dig. It felt wonderful, so satisfying.

He began to press harder, it felt even more amazing, then harder and harder.

He stared at his pointer mudded with blood and dark stringy hair, returned and

began to go deeper. When he could finally touch skull he became terrified, but the

orgasmic feeling was too good to stop. He began again, this time he wiggled his finger

between the skin and smooth bone of skull. The feeling then was pure ecstasy. He kept

it up.

The next day, Randy’s sister, Sandy, stopped by at noon for their weekly lunch

and smoke session. She brought over turkey sandwiches and a family size bag of

cheddar chips. There was also another big bag of green herb in her purse, but that was

used that night after she left the morgue.

She used her spare key to unlock the door and walked into the fairly bare

apartment. Just a ratty old couch, a television stand and a television stood in the living

room. A handful of photographs were tapped to the walls.

Hearing from the bathroom the shower, she walked over to the cracked door and

made herself known.

“Hey Rand, I’m here and I got the good shit this time!” she said. She peered into

the crack and saw no steam was in bathroom. A cold shower? Who the fuck takes a

cold shower? She thought. “Hey!” she shouted “You hear me shithead?”

After no response, she opened the door. She crept in, seeing no movement she

pulled back the shower curtain of swimming fish, to find her big brother horribly

disfigured lying in the tub.

Sandy belted out a high pitched horrified scream. Her baby brother lied there with no face, ripped off with stringy muscles attached to his bloody yellow skull. In his hand

he held his head skin like a halloween mask.

Ted Quinn turned off his television after the news reported a body was found in

the shower of Millstreet Apartments. The woman interviewed was Sandy, his friend’s

sister who he basically grew up with his whole life. He knew the gory details of what

happened even though the news didn’t report the finer details. But he knew.

Ted put his head in his hands and cried. He vowed to get a job and quit this life

of selling drugs. He killed his best friend.

That night Ted hardly slept, he thought of his last encounter with his friend

Randy. He begged and begged to try the new drug Ted was slinging. Ted told him it

was some crazy stuff, it was for the big boys. But he never listened. Now Randy is in the

county morgue dead and skinless from the neck up.

Staring at the ceiling from his bed he heard a loud knock at his apartment door. He shot a

glance at his alarm clock across the room. Who the fuck is here at three in the morning?

Another couple loud bangs from the stranger at the door. I hope it’s not Sandy, I

couldn’t see her right now. Another thunderous BANG.

Ted whipped off his comforter and started out his room into the living room. He

stared at his coffee table, littered with baggies, powders, and a gram scale. Another

BANG. Any harder and that psycho is going to break in my damn door. He peeked into

the peephole and saw no one, just a lit hallway. BANG. Ted jumped back, his heart

pounded in his chest like a deep drum.

He slowly reached for the knob on the door. Before he could touch it, it began to

wiggle. He fought the urge to run back to his room and call 911, and unlocked the door

instead.

A wet hand reached through the small crack of the door and tried to reach for

Ted. Ted tried to push the door back into the jam, but whoever this was was much

stronger. The door burst open, Ted flew back onto the floor. Wet feet walked towards

him squelching on the carpet. He looked up to see the stranger that has entered his

home. Randy stood there naked with his skinless face staring down at a horrified Ted.

“You…” said the ghoul that was once his best friend. “You did this Teddy.”

Ted was frozen from fear. The raspy voice that came from Randy was dead and

hollow. “No…. I tried to tell yo…”

“NO!” came from the nude bone jaw of Randy. “You knew this would happen! I

think I know what just to do..” The undead skull lurched closer to Ted’s frightened face.

He could see the almost bare bone of his friend. Only little muscle was left, like the pith

from a badly peeled orange. The lidless eyes sat in his skull. They stared emotionless.

He could smell formaldehyde and rotting meat on the breath of this monster.

The faceless Randy ran is cold wet fingers around Ted’s temples to the back of

his head.

“This is going to really fucking hurt buddy.” Randy whispered looking into his

childhood friend’s terrified eyes. He dug into the skin and began to rip.

That morning Sandy texted Ted to see if she could swing by to pick up some of

that Bare Bone drug everyone has been talking about. It killed her brother, but it only did

that to only twenty percent of first time users. At this point, she really didn’t care, slightly

hoping it would make her want to do the things people said it did.

She waited in her car in her driveway for a text back.

TEDDYBEAR: come on by

She drove to the side of town you wouldn’t want to go unless you knew where

you were going, luckily she knew the way to Ted’s place like the back of her hand. She

pulled into the U shaped parking lot like she did every Thursday to pick up her fixes.

She found a spot a few cars away from Ted’s car.

SANDY: HERE

TEDDYBEAR: UNLOCKED COME ON UP

She started towards the front door, which was oddly propped open with a shoe.

She turned to look if someone was grabbing something from their car. All she saw was a man walking down the street, who looked a lot like Teddy. His skin looked oddly

loose. She thought to herself, Looks like that man’s neck is bleeding. Sandy returned to

the doorway and up the stairs to Ted’s apartment. #drugs #creepy #horror