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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Mystery
- Subject: Horror / Scary
- Published: 04/22/2017
Mortuary
Born 1964, F, from Gordon, ACT, AustraliaDerek’s friends guffawed as one, as Mervyn tripped over Derek’s strategically placed foot and faceplanted into his lunch. Boy, that prank just never grew old.
Mervyn sighed as he got to his feet and piled the wreckage back onto his lunch tray. He sadly examined his ruined shirt, and flicked watery noodles out of his pockets. They were in the last year of High School for heaven’s sake. When were these clowns going to grow up?
“I say, you enjoy your trip, boy?” Derek’s wit was too much; his friends pounded the table and doubled over in hysterics. Apparently the punchline never grew old either, despite being repeated at least once a week.
Mervyn limped back to the cafeteria line to pick up another lunch tray, and made his way to the corner where his friends waited in silent sympathy. They had all suffered Derek’s pranks at one time or another, and would no doubt suffer them again.
“So you working this weekend, Merv?” asked Daniel. Merv worked part time at the town’s funeral parlour and mortuary, and Daniel was so jealous he could spit! “When you gonna give us the tour?”
Benji almost choked on his meatloaf as he hurried to disassociate himself from Daniel’s request. He had no desire to view cut-up bodies, and couldn’t understand Daniel’s obsession with it.
“I don’t know how you can stand it, being alone with dead people,” said Benji. “Creeps the crap out of me just thinking about it!” He shuddered theatrically and started shovelling canteen trifle into his mouth, bits of jelly falling to the table and wobbling in shock.
Mervyn privately thought that the sight of Benji eating custard and green jelly was more gruesome than looking at cut-up dead people, but he tactfully kept this to himself.
“I’ll probably be working on Friday night and Saturday night,” he said. “I don’t mind, though. I can get some homework done without anyone disturbing me. Unless the corpses come to life,” he grinned evilly and waggled his eyebrows at Benji.
Benji frowned at him, and wiped trifle crumbs off his lips with the back of his hand. “Don’t even joke about it, man. It won’t be so funny when you’re in the morgue on your own, and you hear something shuffling down the hall …” he clawed his hands in the air and rocked from side to side in the worst zombie impression since Zombie Strippers.
“Yeah, well. I’m probably better off with the undead than with the braindead.” Mervyn jerked his head towards Derek in case his friends had any doubt who he was referring to, and they shared a quiet snigger.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and then it was Friday. Mervyn figured all he had to do was avoid Derek and his posse for the day, and from there it would be a clear run to the weekend.
But it wasn’t to be.
You see, Mervyn was in the habit of making a pre-emptive pee his first order of business when he got to school. The thought of raising his hand in class (in front of everyone!) and asking permission to use the toilet made him squirm with hot embarrassment. In his imagination, he could hear the girls giggling and whispering among themselves and he resolved that that particular humiliation would never happen to him. So, get to school ten minutes early, have a quick whizz, problem solved.
Until it wasn’t.
Disaster struck as he walked past the girls’ toilet. His progress was inexplicably halted so abruptly that he took another two paces before realising that the rest of his body wasn’t following. The mystery was soon solved as he was twirled around to face Derek and his grinning goons.
With an expertise that spoke of a strong background in similar exercises, Derek swiftly divested Mervyn of his backpack which was so recently used to devastating effect as a makeshift brake. The backpack was sent skidding into the far corners of the girls’ toilets, and Derek nodded with the satisfaction of a job well done.
“Better go get your backpack, little girl.” Derek’s supporters elbowed each other in mirthful anticipation. Big dumb Bruno left the group, shambling away at a surprising rate of speed, given his bulk.
This did not bode well, and Mervyn figured that time was probably of the essence. To think was to act, and he darted into the girls’ toilet to retrieve his belongings. It seemed to take forever to dash past the row of cubicles (don’t even look!) and the gleaming white sinks with the bank of mirrors reflecting his desperate run.
After what seemed like an age, he finally reached the other end, hooked his backpack and prepared for the return journey. He burst out of the toilets … and ran straight into Mr Pedersen, the gym coach.
“What were you doing in there?” demanded Mr Pedersen. “I should report this, you know. Boys aren’t allowed to go into the girls’ toilets. You should know better than that.”
Mervyn opened his mouth to defend himself when Derek stepped into his field of vision and made an exaggerated cutting gesture across his throat; this gesture was not open to interpretation. Mervyn swallowed his words, and hung his head in shame.
“Sorry, sir,” he mumbled. “I made a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
“Yes, well. I won’t write you up this time. Just be more careful in future.”
Mervyn nodded dumbly, and waited until Mr Pedersen disappeared from view before he raised his head to survey the damage.
It was worse than he thought. In that short time, Bruno had managed to rustle up an impressively large crowd. There must have been twenty or more sets of eyes staring at him, judging him. And just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse …
"Pervy Mervy
Got the scurvy
Looking at
The girlies’ curlies!"
Others took up the chant as Mervyn walked off. He suspected he would still hear the echoes of it in his head when he was an old man.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of giggling, whispering, and pointing fingers, and Mervyn was glad when the final bell rang. Spending time in the company of dead folk was starting to look pretty good.
As he left the building, he noticed his friend Daniel being led away by Derek and his cohort. Derek had a solicitous arm around Daniel’s shoulder and Daniel was agreeing so emphatically with whatever Derek was saying that his head was about to nod off his shoulders.
Mervyn took a hesitant step toward the group, but when big dumb Bruno turned and frowned at him, Mervyn quickly decided that he’d had more than his fair share of Derek and his friends for one day, and he veered toward the bus stop without a second thought. He didn’t like Daniel THAT much.
Bruno turned and lumbered after his boys just in time to catch the end of the discussion. Derek turned and grinned at him. “Pervy Mervy’s working alone tonight at the morgue, six ‘til ten.” He turned to Daniel. “You say a word of this to anyone, and I will get you, don’t worry about that.” Daniel nodded, swallowed hard, and took off like a jackrabbit on speed.
“We’re on boys. We’re on.” High fives all round, excitement already at fever pitch. Even Bruno grinned, his homely features rendered even more unpleasant with the appearance of his small stained teeth. They wandered off to buy supplies and make plans.
Six o’clock, and Mervyn was ready to start his shift at Kindler’s Mortuary & Funeral Home.
Mr Kindler himself unlocked the door and let Mervyn in.
The shopfront was a pleasant space, warm and welcoming with soft music complementing the subtle scent of incense and fresh flowers. Caskets glowed and sparkled under artfully placed downlights, decorative urns lined the shelves. The reception area boasted glossy catalogues for browsing a wider range of funereal accessories, and several boxes of soft tissues were placed strategically about the place.
Then they passed through into the more … practical side of the business. The corridor was all sterile white tiles and harsh fluorescent strip lighting. The chilled air was redolent with a strong pine-scented disinfectant that didn’t quite cover up the distasteful odour of death, blood, and other excretions.
Mr Kindler nodded towards the cold room. “We’ve got four bodies in there at the moment,” he said proudly. “Multi-car collision on the expressway. They only came in about half an hour ago, so I’ve parked them until I can work on them tomorrow.”
Mervyn peeked through the window at the bodies, but there wasn’t much to see. Four stainless steel trolleys were lined up headfirst against the far wall, about a metre apart. Sterile white sheets draped their burdens, peaks and troughs hinting vaguely at the forms beneath. Everything was unnaturally cold and still, and Mervyn shivered as he turned away, wondering for the hundredth time at Daniel’s desire to see these things.
“Shouldn’t be too much action tonight,” said Mr Kindler. “I’m not expecting any deliveries or pick-ups, you just need to keep an ear out in case anything unexpected happens. Kevin’ll be here about ten o’clock to take over.”
They swung into the office, which at least was a little warmer thanks to a small fan heater working overtime in the corner near the desk. An automatic coffee maker in the small kitchenette wafted out the heavenly scent of freshly brewed coffee.
“Now, I don’t want to alarm you,” said Mr Kindler, “but the lock on the outside door to the loading area got broken a couple nights ago. Probably just kids, but if there’s any trouble, call the cops straight away. Also …” he winked, and led Mervyn over to the filing cabinets, which now concealed a baseball bat in the space between. “Just in case.”
Mervyn had no illusions about his ability to defend himself, but nodded anyway.
“Well, I’ll get going then. Not that long ‘til Kevin turns up. I can’t see much happening in the next couple of hours.” He nodded reassuringly, and left.
Mervyn helped himself to coffee, and spread his homework out on the desk.
The minutes ticked by, as evening silently turned to night.
A car crept into the carpark, headlights off. The driver pulled on his zombie mask, and hammed it up for his audience. Beers were opened, and a joint was passed around as Derek quietly slipped out of the car and shambled around the carpark, sending his audience into muffled hysterics. He gave a thumbs-up and made his way to the loading area, where he just happened to know of a broken door lock …
Mervyn was drawn away sharply from the fascinations of trigonometry. What was that noise? He strained his ears, but could hear nothing save the faint ticking of the clock in the cold room next door. He bent his head to his work again. Was that someone (SOMETHING??) opening a door nearby?
Mervyn’s stomach contracted into a hot ball of fear, and he stood on trembling legs. He walked stiffly over to the filing cabinets and grabbed the bat. Just in case.
He peered into the quiet corridor. Not a sound to be heard. Just the relentless tick … tick … tick … swish … What the hell was that? Mervyn drew back into the office in shock, his whole body shaking with fear. He dipped into his meagre reserves of courage, and went back out into the corridor, the baseball bat giving him some small measure of comfort.
He opened the cold room door and peered with trepidation through the gap. One of the corpses had somehow become uncovered, the sheet lying in an untidy pile on the floor. Mervyn stood there, his heart thudding uncomfortably in his tight chest, baseball bat dangling, forgotten, in his hand. He wasn’t really going to go over there and cover the body back up, was he? Mind you, he’d be a freaking hero on Monday if he did.
He took a step further into the room. Nothing moved. Another step, then another. Unwilling to let the corpse out of his sight, he hooked the sheet with his foot and drew it towards himself before quickly grabbing it and billowing it back over the body. Just like making a bed, he thought sickly. He walked backwards to the door, back into the corridor, back into the safety of the warm office.
He grabbed another coffee and attempted to reconnect with his maths assignment. The sharp clang of something being knocked to a floor somewhere made him jump, sending coffee everywhere. He dabbed futilely at his shirt and homework with paper towel, cursing steadily under his breath.
Fear became anger. Gripping the bat, he strode out into the corridor. He peered into the dark shadows of the loading bay. Nothing. He looked into the cold room. This time, two of the corpses were uncovered, their shrouds (sheets!) lying in crumpled heaps on the floor. Did something just move? DID SOMETHING JUST MOVE?
Mervyn backpedalled into the corridor and slammed his way back into the office. He picked up the phone but caught himself before he dialled the police. What was he going to say? A couple of sheets fell off some bodies and I got spooked? I heard something but I don’t know what it was and come to think of it, it could have come from outside? After all, the main road ran right past the other side of the loading dock. Mervyn hung up the phone with shaking hands.
In the loading dock, a shadow separated from one of the darker corners. Derek’s stomach ached from holding back giggles; he bet Pervy Mervy was just about wetting himself by now. Dropping the saucepan lid on the concrete floor had made a hell of a racket! He patted the phone peeking over the top of his pocket, and hoped the guys were getting this footage. Man, this was gonna go viral!
He shuffled into the corridor, casting a wary look at the cold room. No way in hell was he going in there! He moaned and loudly shambled towards the office, delivering a hefty thump on the door.
Mervyn couldn’t focus on his homework. Numbers and diagrams swam meaninglessly before his eyes, all his concentration was focussed on listening, listening. His stomach dropped as he heard a shuffling noise in the corridor, then a dull thump at the office door. He was dimly aware of wetting himself. There was no way the police were going to get here in time; it was up to him to defend himself.
He gripped the bat and strode over to the door, tears running down his cheeks. He swung open the door and came face to face with a rather hefty member of the living dead.
Shrieking in fear, he whammed the bat into the zombie’s head, terror lending strength and marksmanship. The zombie dropped to the floor, groaning and holding its head. Mervyn continued to rain blows down on the creature until its head went mushy and it lay still, its head haloed by a spreading pool of blood. It was about then that it dawned on Mervyn that the zombie was wearing clothes. Very familiar clothes, in fact. Oh shit.
Out in the carpark, Derek’s friends watched in white-faced shock as their friend and leader was beaten to a pulp by weedy little Pervy Mervy.
And in the cold room, the remaining two sheets drifted to the floor.
Mortuary(Hazel Dow)
Derek’s friends guffawed as one, as Mervyn tripped over Derek’s strategically placed foot and faceplanted into his lunch. Boy, that prank just never grew old.
Mervyn sighed as he got to his feet and piled the wreckage back onto his lunch tray. He sadly examined his ruined shirt, and flicked watery noodles out of his pockets. They were in the last year of High School for heaven’s sake. When were these clowns going to grow up?
“I say, you enjoy your trip, boy?” Derek’s wit was too much; his friends pounded the table and doubled over in hysterics. Apparently the punchline never grew old either, despite being repeated at least once a week.
Mervyn limped back to the cafeteria line to pick up another lunch tray, and made his way to the corner where his friends waited in silent sympathy. They had all suffered Derek’s pranks at one time or another, and would no doubt suffer them again.
“So you working this weekend, Merv?” asked Daniel. Merv worked part time at the town’s funeral parlour and mortuary, and Daniel was so jealous he could spit! “When you gonna give us the tour?”
Benji almost choked on his meatloaf as he hurried to disassociate himself from Daniel’s request. He had no desire to view cut-up bodies, and couldn’t understand Daniel’s obsession with it.
“I don’t know how you can stand it, being alone with dead people,” said Benji. “Creeps the crap out of me just thinking about it!” He shuddered theatrically and started shovelling canteen trifle into his mouth, bits of jelly falling to the table and wobbling in shock.
Mervyn privately thought that the sight of Benji eating custard and green jelly was more gruesome than looking at cut-up dead people, but he tactfully kept this to himself.
“I’ll probably be working on Friday night and Saturday night,” he said. “I don’t mind, though. I can get some homework done without anyone disturbing me. Unless the corpses come to life,” he grinned evilly and waggled his eyebrows at Benji.
Benji frowned at him, and wiped trifle crumbs off his lips with the back of his hand. “Don’t even joke about it, man. It won’t be so funny when you’re in the morgue on your own, and you hear something shuffling down the hall …” he clawed his hands in the air and rocked from side to side in the worst zombie impression since Zombie Strippers.
“Yeah, well. I’m probably better off with the undead than with the braindead.” Mervyn jerked his head towards Derek in case his friends had any doubt who he was referring to, and they shared a quiet snigger.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and then it was Friday. Mervyn figured all he had to do was avoid Derek and his posse for the day, and from there it would be a clear run to the weekend.
But it wasn’t to be.
You see, Mervyn was in the habit of making a pre-emptive pee his first order of business when he got to school. The thought of raising his hand in class (in front of everyone!) and asking permission to use the toilet made him squirm with hot embarrassment. In his imagination, he could hear the girls giggling and whispering among themselves and he resolved that that particular humiliation would never happen to him. So, get to school ten minutes early, have a quick whizz, problem solved.
Until it wasn’t.
Disaster struck as he walked past the girls’ toilet. His progress was inexplicably halted so abruptly that he took another two paces before realising that the rest of his body wasn’t following. The mystery was soon solved as he was twirled around to face Derek and his grinning goons.
With an expertise that spoke of a strong background in similar exercises, Derek swiftly divested Mervyn of his backpack which was so recently used to devastating effect as a makeshift brake. The backpack was sent skidding into the far corners of the girls’ toilets, and Derek nodded with the satisfaction of a job well done.
“Better go get your backpack, little girl.” Derek’s supporters elbowed each other in mirthful anticipation. Big dumb Bruno left the group, shambling away at a surprising rate of speed, given his bulk.
This did not bode well, and Mervyn figured that time was probably of the essence. To think was to act, and he darted into the girls’ toilet to retrieve his belongings. It seemed to take forever to dash past the row of cubicles (don’t even look!) and the gleaming white sinks with the bank of mirrors reflecting his desperate run.
After what seemed like an age, he finally reached the other end, hooked his backpack and prepared for the return journey. He burst out of the toilets … and ran straight into Mr Pedersen, the gym coach.
“What were you doing in there?” demanded Mr Pedersen. “I should report this, you know. Boys aren’t allowed to go into the girls’ toilets. You should know better than that.”
Mervyn opened his mouth to defend himself when Derek stepped into his field of vision and made an exaggerated cutting gesture across his throat; this gesture was not open to interpretation. Mervyn swallowed his words, and hung his head in shame.
“Sorry, sir,” he mumbled. “I made a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
“Yes, well. I won’t write you up this time. Just be more careful in future.”
Mervyn nodded dumbly, and waited until Mr Pedersen disappeared from view before he raised his head to survey the damage.
It was worse than he thought. In that short time, Bruno had managed to rustle up an impressively large crowd. There must have been twenty or more sets of eyes staring at him, judging him. And just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse …
"Pervy Mervy
Got the scurvy
Looking at
The girlies’ curlies!"
Others took up the chant as Mervyn walked off. He suspected he would still hear the echoes of it in his head when he was an old man.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of giggling, whispering, and pointing fingers, and Mervyn was glad when the final bell rang. Spending time in the company of dead folk was starting to look pretty good.
As he left the building, he noticed his friend Daniel being led away by Derek and his cohort. Derek had a solicitous arm around Daniel’s shoulder and Daniel was agreeing so emphatically with whatever Derek was saying that his head was about to nod off his shoulders.
Mervyn took a hesitant step toward the group, but when big dumb Bruno turned and frowned at him, Mervyn quickly decided that he’d had more than his fair share of Derek and his friends for one day, and he veered toward the bus stop without a second thought. He didn’t like Daniel THAT much.
Bruno turned and lumbered after his boys just in time to catch the end of the discussion. Derek turned and grinned at him. “Pervy Mervy’s working alone tonight at the morgue, six ‘til ten.” He turned to Daniel. “You say a word of this to anyone, and I will get you, don’t worry about that.” Daniel nodded, swallowed hard, and took off like a jackrabbit on speed.
“We’re on boys. We’re on.” High fives all round, excitement already at fever pitch. Even Bruno grinned, his homely features rendered even more unpleasant with the appearance of his small stained teeth. They wandered off to buy supplies and make plans.
Six o’clock, and Mervyn was ready to start his shift at Kindler’s Mortuary & Funeral Home.
Mr Kindler himself unlocked the door and let Mervyn in.
The shopfront was a pleasant space, warm and welcoming with soft music complementing the subtle scent of incense and fresh flowers. Caskets glowed and sparkled under artfully placed downlights, decorative urns lined the shelves. The reception area boasted glossy catalogues for browsing a wider range of funereal accessories, and several boxes of soft tissues were placed strategically about the place.
Then they passed through into the more … practical side of the business. The corridor was all sterile white tiles and harsh fluorescent strip lighting. The chilled air was redolent with a strong pine-scented disinfectant that didn’t quite cover up the distasteful odour of death, blood, and other excretions.
Mr Kindler nodded towards the cold room. “We’ve got four bodies in there at the moment,” he said proudly. “Multi-car collision on the expressway. They only came in about half an hour ago, so I’ve parked them until I can work on them tomorrow.”
Mervyn peeked through the window at the bodies, but there wasn’t much to see. Four stainless steel trolleys were lined up headfirst against the far wall, about a metre apart. Sterile white sheets draped their burdens, peaks and troughs hinting vaguely at the forms beneath. Everything was unnaturally cold and still, and Mervyn shivered as he turned away, wondering for the hundredth time at Daniel’s desire to see these things.
“Shouldn’t be too much action tonight,” said Mr Kindler. “I’m not expecting any deliveries or pick-ups, you just need to keep an ear out in case anything unexpected happens. Kevin’ll be here about ten o’clock to take over.”
They swung into the office, which at least was a little warmer thanks to a small fan heater working overtime in the corner near the desk. An automatic coffee maker in the small kitchenette wafted out the heavenly scent of freshly brewed coffee.
“Now, I don’t want to alarm you,” said Mr Kindler, “but the lock on the outside door to the loading area got broken a couple nights ago. Probably just kids, but if there’s any trouble, call the cops straight away. Also …” he winked, and led Mervyn over to the filing cabinets, which now concealed a baseball bat in the space between. “Just in case.”
Mervyn had no illusions about his ability to defend himself, but nodded anyway.
“Well, I’ll get going then. Not that long ‘til Kevin turns up. I can’t see much happening in the next couple of hours.” He nodded reassuringly, and left.
Mervyn helped himself to coffee, and spread his homework out on the desk.
The minutes ticked by, as evening silently turned to night.
A car crept into the carpark, headlights off. The driver pulled on his zombie mask, and hammed it up for his audience. Beers were opened, and a joint was passed around as Derek quietly slipped out of the car and shambled around the carpark, sending his audience into muffled hysterics. He gave a thumbs-up and made his way to the loading area, where he just happened to know of a broken door lock …
Mervyn was drawn away sharply from the fascinations of trigonometry. What was that noise? He strained his ears, but could hear nothing save the faint ticking of the clock in the cold room next door. He bent his head to his work again. Was that someone (SOMETHING??) opening a door nearby?
Mervyn’s stomach contracted into a hot ball of fear, and he stood on trembling legs. He walked stiffly over to the filing cabinets and grabbed the bat. Just in case.
He peered into the quiet corridor. Not a sound to be heard. Just the relentless tick … tick … tick … swish … What the hell was that? Mervyn drew back into the office in shock, his whole body shaking with fear. He dipped into his meagre reserves of courage, and went back out into the corridor, the baseball bat giving him some small measure of comfort.
He opened the cold room door and peered with trepidation through the gap. One of the corpses had somehow become uncovered, the sheet lying in an untidy pile on the floor. Mervyn stood there, his heart thudding uncomfortably in his tight chest, baseball bat dangling, forgotten, in his hand. He wasn’t really going to go over there and cover the body back up, was he? Mind you, he’d be a freaking hero on Monday if he did.
He took a step further into the room. Nothing moved. Another step, then another. Unwilling to let the corpse out of his sight, he hooked the sheet with his foot and drew it towards himself before quickly grabbing it and billowing it back over the body. Just like making a bed, he thought sickly. He walked backwards to the door, back into the corridor, back into the safety of the warm office.
He grabbed another coffee and attempted to reconnect with his maths assignment. The sharp clang of something being knocked to a floor somewhere made him jump, sending coffee everywhere. He dabbed futilely at his shirt and homework with paper towel, cursing steadily under his breath.
Fear became anger. Gripping the bat, he strode out into the corridor. He peered into the dark shadows of the loading bay. Nothing. He looked into the cold room. This time, two of the corpses were uncovered, their shrouds (sheets!) lying in crumpled heaps on the floor. Did something just move? DID SOMETHING JUST MOVE?
Mervyn backpedalled into the corridor and slammed his way back into the office. He picked up the phone but caught himself before he dialled the police. What was he going to say? A couple of sheets fell off some bodies and I got spooked? I heard something but I don’t know what it was and come to think of it, it could have come from outside? After all, the main road ran right past the other side of the loading dock. Mervyn hung up the phone with shaking hands.
In the loading dock, a shadow separated from one of the darker corners. Derek’s stomach ached from holding back giggles; he bet Pervy Mervy was just about wetting himself by now. Dropping the saucepan lid on the concrete floor had made a hell of a racket! He patted the phone peeking over the top of his pocket, and hoped the guys were getting this footage. Man, this was gonna go viral!
He shuffled into the corridor, casting a wary look at the cold room. No way in hell was he going in there! He moaned and loudly shambled towards the office, delivering a hefty thump on the door.
Mervyn couldn’t focus on his homework. Numbers and diagrams swam meaninglessly before his eyes, all his concentration was focussed on listening, listening. His stomach dropped as he heard a shuffling noise in the corridor, then a dull thump at the office door. He was dimly aware of wetting himself. There was no way the police were going to get here in time; it was up to him to defend himself.
He gripped the bat and strode over to the door, tears running down his cheeks. He swung open the door and came face to face with a rather hefty member of the living dead.
Shrieking in fear, he whammed the bat into the zombie’s head, terror lending strength and marksmanship. The zombie dropped to the floor, groaning and holding its head. Mervyn continued to rain blows down on the creature until its head went mushy and it lay still, its head haloed by a spreading pool of blood. It was about then that it dawned on Mervyn that the zombie was wearing clothes. Very familiar clothes, in fact. Oh shit.
Out in the carpark, Derek’s friends watched in white-faced shock as their friend and leader was beaten to a pulp by weedy little Pervy Mervy.
And in the cold room, the remaining two sheets drifted to the floor.
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- 13
Valerie Allen
10/31/2022A perfect story for Halloween! Great writing, kept me reading to see if the bullies got their due--and they did. Great ending.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Hazel Dow
10/31/2022Thanks Valerie, it was quite satisfying to write, knowing what was going to happen to the bullies. Hehe.
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Gerald R Gioglio
10/31/2022Compelling and engaging, Hazel. Karma, it's a bitch. Thanks. Best, jg
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Lillian Kazmierczak
10/30/2022Hazel, that was horrific and sad...or it could be said Derek got his just desserts. Either way this is a great story! Congratulations on short story star of the day!
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
JD
10/30/2022A truly horrific story, Hazel. I guess i missed this one from a few years ago, so it was a happy discovery today. Happy short story STAR of the day, and Happy Halloween too! :-)
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
JD
10/31/2022i imagine that all those who have been bullied share similar fantasies of giving it back in multiplied measure.... so i'm sure this story provides some catharsis for them all. well done.
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Hazel Dow
10/31/2022Thanks JD, having been bullied at school myself, this was a particularly satisfying story to write :) Cheers
COMMENTS (6)