Already Dead
by Dave Clapper
It was already dead and was hanging from her ceiling. Another one. A trifle really, but still.
He pulled a stool from the kitchen, positioned it underneath. Climbed up, removed the dead thing.
It fit easily into the palm of his hand and he bounced it there, regarding it with some interest. It didn't exactly look native, although he wasn't sure he'd know native from exotic. At rest, its eyes faced his.
He took it into the bathroom, lifted the lid on the toilet, tilted his hand sideways, and let the thing fall in. He watched the ripples moving out from its body until the water calmed. As the last wave faded, he reached over and depressed the lever. Within moments, her tiny terrorist was gone, rushing from sight in a porcelain whirlpool.
As new water started refilling the bowl, he lowered the lid and sat down, eying the palm of his hand, dotted with pinprick yellow stains. The whine of the plumbing eventually faded and he stood.
He returned to the bedroom, stood just inside the door and watched her. Her nightgown was sweat-dampened and rolled up above her waist. He looked down at his hand again, then back at her—thought of the vanquished foe and all the others that had preceded it. Cleared his throat.
“I don't think I can do this anymore.”
|
5
favs |
1458 views
13 comments |
234 words
All rights reserved. |
Author's Note
originally published in FRiGG Magazine
It suggests to me that the dead thing embodies the most recent instance of their making love. Did you mean that?
That's not a bad interpretation (I actually really like that interpretation), but wasn't my specific intent, no.
"and all the others that had preceded it."
so good, Dave
Nice little piece that sticks in the mind and refuses to go away.
Fascinating. This is maddeningly good. It made the hair on the back of my neck move. I want to know what the "tiny terrorist" is??????
Oh, wow. Instant fave. The title is just perfect.
Thanks, everyone. And sorry, Ethel: I ain't telling. It's purposefully kept vague (Ellen Parker, FRiGG's editor, really helped me move in that direction, and I think it really helps the piece).
I love when I am fully creeped out by something. The fine details in this story intrigue me, particularly the sweat-dampened nightgown around the waist. So many unanswered questions. Fantastic story.
I remember this one! The lack of explanation works, absolutely. You just show the weirdness of it all. Nice uncluttered writing. Perfect title.
this is going to bother me.
Ellen once told me (before I knew her very well) that I should write horror, and I was appalled. But I've come to like that idea more and more, so the comments here are gratifying. Thanks, y'all.
This is really interesting. And I like the fact that you didn't describe the creature. A precise, dead weight in the room. Really nice.
Thanks, Shelagh.