"A DAY OF RECKONING"
Some people are inherently evil. Darkness dwells inside them and their soul is hardened like the blood of a cadaver. They feel no empathy and wound others without remorse. Death has become them spiritually and now all that awaits is for their immortal soul to follow.
“Jessie, you are nothing to me. I don’t give a damn about anything you do. If you want to leave, then leave, because I am tired of your shit!”
The heartfelt pleads coming from the phone, had no effect on Mack. His eyebrows narrowed and his cheeks raised. His eyes were now barely visible.
“Stay the fuck away from me you skank. The next time you try to set me up by getting pregnant, I’ll kill you too, you fucking whore.”
The girl sobbed uncontrollably while Mack berated her. He screamed into the phone with every word tearing her innocent heart to pieces.
“I love you Mack. Please don’t do this. I did what you wanted, I had the abortion.” The tears poured from her face, five miles away at her mother’s home.
“Please, let me come see you. I’ll do anything.” The room was silent for a moment. The sound of a dog barking outside the house grew louder.
“Will you do anything I ask Jessie?”
She hesitated wondering what he may want her to do. Her tears let up momentarily as fear set in.
“Yes, baby I will.” She bit her lip, and her eyes closed waiting for the sentence to be announced. He was judge, jury and executioner.
“Good, stay the fuck away from me.” He said and pressed end.
“Mack,... Mack”, she paused for a minute, relieved that he had not requested anything of her. She still bore the physical and mental scars of abuse and molestation from the last incident.
Mack stood up and took the OxyContin bottle out of his pocket. He poured an odd number of pills into his hand and popped them into his mouth. He sat slowly back down onto the couch and looked around the room. The entire house was a tribute to his manhood. There were deer mounts, stuffed birds and even a bear skin rug that had never been cleaned since the day he brought it home.
“Ain’t this some shit.” He said in a low voice.
The bottle of Wild Turkey was sitting opened, three quarters empty. The picture of his hunting buddies sat on the table beside it.
“I am gonna get me some pussy tonight. Fuck that hoe!”
He looked at the clock. The digital image was 7:15. For a moment, he contemplated getting dressed. The pool tournament started at 8:00.
“Oh hell no. Tonight, I'm looking for ass. I am gonna show that bitch that I don’t need her.”
He threw the cushion behind him and lay down on the couch. The sun had already passed the horizon. The darkness was now upon him. He reached over and took one last drink of whiskey, then placed his head on the pillow.
For a moment, the dreams started. He stood over his Grandmother, screaming. She turned her head, slightly as if the air coming from his lungs would somehow harm her. It wasn’t the words that frightened her, it was the punching that started when he finished. Her eyes twitched and she raised her hands to block the blows that she knew was inevitable.
Then there was nothing. Mack’s dreamed stop. A sound came from his bedroom that woke him. He opened his eyes. Glass was shattering. He jumped to his feet and ran down the hallway.
“I am gonna kill some fucking body. That crazy bitch.” The room was now dark. He knew she had come over to destroy his valuables, shit he had paid for.
“I work too hard for my things to let someone fuck them up.”
He stopped at the bedroom door. It wasn’t what he expected. Jessie wasn’t there. The hallway light reflected off the shards of glass that lay on the floor in front of the dresser. A heavy thump came from within the darkness. Slowly he stepped into the room.
“Jessie, what the hell are you doing?”
There was no answer. He looked around the room and slowly took another step. He felt a chill in the air that he had never known. It went past his skin, the feeling touched him to his inner core. The closet door flexed as something struck hard from within the small room. He jumped and faced the direction of the loud sound.
He watched it for what seemed like an eternity. The noise had stopped. Slowly, he inched forward extending his hand to the handle. His mind was racing. He wanted to jerk the door open, but couldn’t.
“What the hell is in there?” He whispered.
He took a deep breath and snatched the door open. It hit the wall with a loud bang and slammed back shut. In his mind, he thought about the image of the open door. His breathing was heavy, and different. Fear was an unusual emotion for him. There was no person standing in there.
Slowly, he took the handle in his hand and opened the old door. The hinge creaked from the weight. His eyes hit every corner of the closet. Hunting boots were in the same position, no clothes on the floor, just an unusual odor of death. He had smelled that thick pungent odor before. Chills formed on his back. He took another step into the doorway of the small room. The voice in his head spoke to him again.
“Don’t do it!” He paused. “Don’t turn on the light.”
He ignored the warning. His hand searched for the switch on the inside of the wall. The brightness of the light clouded his vision as the beast jumped onto him. His breath left his chest. Small claws latched onto his neck and teeth began mauling his face. He stumbled backwards tripping on the bed and falling onto the floor. There were two animals on him. Claws were tearing away his flesh.
“It’s cats!” He screamed in his mind. The two animals were fiercely attacking him. The feral animals were tied together by the tail. As soon as he would free himself from one, the other would lock onto him.
The screaming of the animals echoed off the walls and filled his mind with panic. He gripped the fur and pulled. The rotten flesh tore away leaving its rib cage exposed. The animal wasn’t affected. Its nails dug into Mack’s scalp and slithering teeth tore a piece of flesh from his nose. He screamed in agony. The pain shot through his body as he fought the creatures.
In a fit of rage, he grabbed the two animals and threw them against the wall. They fell over the bedpost and now hung from each side. The two animals attached each other, pieces of wet fur flew into the air. Water dripped from the beast and splattered across the bed.
Mack was on all fours crawling toward the door. He tried to stand and stumbled into the wall. He pressed his body against the paneling, trying to stand. One look back, then he slammed the door, leaving the two felines trapped in the room.
He fell to his knees, his eyes focusing on the green shag carpet below. The memory of the animals came back to him. They were his grandmother’s pets. He had duck taped the cats together and threw them in the pond. Pain went through his chest. He was missing parts of his face, but the coldness was now unbearable.
“This can’t be happening”
A sound echoed off the walls.
“It’s the cats.” He said to himself, but he listened closer. It wasn’t the cats. It was a human’s voice.
Mack stood and looked around. The sound of the cats still echoed from within the room, but there was more. The voice was whimpering. He slowly walked down the hall, listening carefully. The spare room was empty, but the crying continued. A picture formed in his mind. It was the sound of a baby. His chest pounded. He gritted his teeth.
“Stop it. Who is fucking doing this. I will shoot you
mother fucker.”
He walked back into the living room and his feet would no longer move. In the chair where she always sat, was his grandmother.
“Why did you do it son?”
Her stringy hair barely moved as she spoke through her wrinkled skin. He fell back against the wall.
“I didn’t do nothing Grandma.”
“Yes, you killed it. My grandbaby. You killed my GRANDBABY.”
She stood quickly in an unnatural motion. Without moving her legs, she came at him. Her skinless fingers grabbed his throat. Her face was touching his. He felt the air and smelled the decay coming from her mouth.
“Murderer, Murderer.” She screeched.
He tried to run for the door. His hands forced her backwards as he crashed through the wooden screen. His body moved quickly toward the woods. The decaying corpse of his grandmother stood in the doorway watching.
The briar bushes tore at his legs. He tried desperately to put distance between him and the nightmare at the house. His foot dropped into a small hole in the ground. He hit hard on the pine straw covered red clay.
In his sight below his face were shoes, but they were not made of normal material. Fear filled his mind. He did not want to look up. They were made of human skin. He pushed back hard and fell up against a tree. His back hit the bark and he sat down onto the ground.
The man dressed in an old-world coat walked over to him. His brown eyes were expressionless. Methodically, he extended his hand. Mack felt helpless and took it with trepidation. The tips of Mark’s fingers began to wrinkle. He screamed as complete hysteria set in. He released the man’s grip and rolled away.
“The gun.” He thought.
His grandmother no longer stood in the doorway. Full speed, he ran through the screen and slid to a stop in the living room. The gun was right below the clock where he left it. His eyes looked at the device which read 7:20. Hours had passed but the clock had only changed five minutes. He turned to the couch and laying there, whiskey bottle still in hand, was what remained in this world of Mack Jones. What lay ahead now was only the judgement.
Author: Huffman Monk