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Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Dark · #2304985
Winner! The Writer's Cramp 9/23/23 W/C 609


With a jolt, I wake. The clock reads 2:49. I groan, turn over, try to go back to sleep.

“Wake, you good for nothing lazy slug. There is much to do.”

That voice sounds suspiciously like my mother. Who has been dead for decades.

“Shut up!” I scream and stick a pillow over my head, but the voice gets louder.

“So much to do! Get up! Now. Do it now!”

“Fine! Alright. Just go away.” The pillow goes flying across the room. So does the clock.

I wander out to the porch. Jungle noises of night. Birds, animals, so much noise. Death and life all around.

“You must now go into the jungle and kill something.”

The voice is loud. Insistent.

“Kill the first thing you see. Do it now.”

“What if I refuse?” I speak into the black jungle. “I won’t kill for you.”

Silence.

Then, “You killed for me before. You can kill for me if I order you again.”

“Make me!”

Trees swayed, thunder roared, lightening cracked, rain poured down. Wind blew me to the ground. The equinox storm broke over my head. I stayed in the fetal position as the world round me bucked and broke into pieces.

“Will you kill for me?” That voice again reached my ears, above the noise of the earth breaking apart.

“No! I will not! A thousand times no!”

“Very well.”

The storm stopped. A calm came over me, came over the jungle. All sound ceased.

Appearing before me, a large blue bird stood on one leg, surveying me lying on the ground.

“Why are you on the ground? Are you hurt? Do you need assistance?”

I jumped up, amazed. “Are you speaking to me?”

“I seem to be. There is no other lying on the ground before me. Are you hurt? Do you need assistance?” One leg came down, one leg went up into the blue feathers.

“I am fine. Just trying to avoid that storm. The wind, the rain. Earthquakes, you know. Stuff like that.”

Big blue bird turns its head to the left, to the right, then flies away. I watch it soar into an orange sky with red clouds. As I watch, a huge tortoise lumbers up to me.

“Hellll-oooo. Arrrre youuuu newww herrrreee????” Words spoken as slow as the creature crept.

“Excuse me?” New? Where was I? Last I knew I was in a jungle, off a porch, running away from the voice of my mother.

“Yes, you! Are you new here?” Another creature asked me the same question. This time a large scaly thing, could it be a dragon? A dinosaur? Some kind of large reptile? “You look tasty. Can I taste you?” A large purple thing came from its mouth and ran up and down my arm. A tongue?

“Stop that!” I jumped onto the tortoise shell. As I laid down, I hung on to the sides. The tortoise slowly walked away from the reptile thing.

“Get back here! You taste good!”

“Faster! Walk faster!” I punched the shell. The tortoise lumbered along, slowly making its way in the underbrush.

“I told you to kill something! Or I will have something kill you. Last chance.” That voice again.

A mosquito landed on my arm. I swatted it. Splat, bloody remains. I killed something.

“Are you satisfied now? Does this count?”

Suddenly I woke in my room. Bed clothes lie in a jumble. My head is full of strange images. But the voice is gone. I pray it no longer torments me.

As I go to wash my face, I see a bloody spot on my arm. How did that get there?

W/C 609


















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