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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Mystery
- Subject: Horror / Scary
- Published: 07/06/2017
The Wind of Change
Born 1964, F, from Gordon, ACT, AustraliaSam tried to sneak out the back door, but to no avail.
“RAAHHH!!” yelled Ben as he jumped on Sam and wrestled him to the ground. Not a difficult feat considering his big brother was roughly three times his size! Taking advantage of his position, Ben proceeded to pull up fistfuls of grass and weeds, rhythmically stuffing the foliage down the neck of Sam’s tee-shirt. It itched horribly, and was that … could it be … NOOOO!!
Ben leapt off his brother, staring at his hand. “Ewwwww, you made me get dogshit on my hand, you dirty bugger!” He quickly wiped the offending material off his hand onto Sam’s tee-shirt, and disappeared into the house. Presumably to wash his hands, one hoped.
Sam made his way into the house, his face red and scrunched with fury. His mum came out of the kitchen, and nearly dropped her coffee. “Christ, Sam! You scared the hell outta me! You better hope the wind doesn’t change, or your face is gonna stay like that. And what’s that all over your … ewww, go and have a shower now!”
Half a bar of soap and a million litres of hot water later, Sam emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of fragrant steam. He could still smell it. Seething down the hallway towards his room, he heard Ben moving around in his bedroom. His footsteps slowed, and he stopped outside Ben’s door. He knew something that would gross Ben out. Payback in three, two … Sam dropped his towel, turned his eyelids inside out, and swung the bedroom door open while furiously wagging his body from side to side. His mum was standing there holding the laundry hamper, which she promptly dropped in order to grab her chest. “Good Christ, Sam! What the heck are you doing? Boy you’d better hope the wind doesn’t change, your face is going be stuck like that! And put some pants on before the chickens think you’ve got a worm for them!”
Mortified, Sam darted into his bedroom and exchanged his towel wrapping for normal clothes before sneaking out of the house to spend the day doing whatever 12 year old boys do.
And there we leave him. Until dinnertime …
Sam eyed the mounds of mashed potato and tinned peas dismally. Mashed potato and peas were always the worst, visually speaking. He raised his eyes to see Ben watching him darkly from the other side of the table. As eye contact was made, Ben slowly and menacingly stuffed a forkful of peas and mash into his mouth and worked his jaw. Sam quickly looked back at his own plate, but could still feel Ben staring at him. Against his will, his gaze slowly came up, sliding across the table to Ben’s chest, chin, moving mouth parts … He saw Ben’s gaze darting quickly from parent to parent before he dropped his mouth open, exposing a glistening paste of chewed food.
Sam felt his stomach drop, but he gamely forked some dinner into his reluctant mouth. Tried to swallow, but kept seeing … It was no good, he hacked mash and peas back onto his plate and glared at Ben, bits of food dropping from his open mouth.
“Samuel Andrew Beckett!” roared his father. “If you can’t eat like a civilised human being, you can damn well go eat in the laundry with the other animals! And stop pulling faces, one day the wind’s gonna change ….”
Trundling off to the laundry with his dinner and re-dinner, Sam could hear Ben snorting with suppressed laughter, snerk snerk snerk, and felt a black hatred welling up in him, a dark wish that something horrible would happen to Ben for a change. A wish so strong, he could almost feel its physical presence. He tipped his dinner out on the back lawn, and sneaked off to bed, too upset to eat anything. His dreams were troubled, populated with monsters in Ben masks.
The next morning saw him sitting tired and dejected on the back step, last night’s dinner lying sadly at his side.
He sensed the dark presence behind him just a moment too late.
A mighty shove transferred him smartly onto the lawn, where his big brother sat on him and pulled the shirt from his wriggling body.
“Can’t have a mash bath with clothes on!” crowed Ben as he rolled Sam’s half naked body towards the mess on the back lawn.
Sam’s warm flesh cringed at it hit the cold potato sludge.
And something in him snapped.
He lashed out blindly, grabbing and twisting at Ben’s face in an effort to dislodge him. Ben’s face contorted grotesquely under Sam’s grip.
The cool breeze that had been playing against Sam’s naked torso suddenly died down ... then picked up from the opposite direction.
And under his fingers, Sam felt Ben’s new features slowly harden and set.
The Wind of Change(Hazel Dow)
Sam tried to sneak out the back door, but to no avail.
“RAAHHH!!” yelled Ben as he jumped on Sam and wrestled him to the ground. Not a difficult feat considering his big brother was roughly three times his size! Taking advantage of his position, Ben proceeded to pull up fistfuls of grass and weeds, rhythmically stuffing the foliage down the neck of Sam’s tee-shirt. It itched horribly, and was that … could it be … NOOOO!!
Ben leapt off his brother, staring at his hand. “Ewwwww, you made me get dogshit on my hand, you dirty bugger!” He quickly wiped the offending material off his hand onto Sam’s tee-shirt, and disappeared into the house. Presumably to wash his hands, one hoped.
Sam made his way into the house, his face red and scrunched with fury. His mum came out of the kitchen, and nearly dropped her coffee. “Christ, Sam! You scared the hell outta me! You better hope the wind doesn’t change, or your face is gonna stay like that. And what’s that all over your … ewww, go and have a shower now!”
Half a bar of soap and a million litres of hot water later, Sam emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of fragrant steam. He could still smell it. Seething down the hallway towards his room, he heard Ben moving around in his bedroom. His footsteps slowed, and he stopped outside Ben’s door. He knew something that would gross Ben out. Payback in three, two … Sam dropped his towel, turned his eyelids inside out, and swung the bedroom door open while furiously wagging his body from side to side. His mum was standing there holding the laundry hamper, which she promptly dropped in order to grab her chest. “Good Christ, Sam! What the heck are you doing? Boy you’d better hope the wind doesn’t change, your face is going be stuck like that! And put some pants on before the chickens think you’ve got a worm for them!”
Mortified, Sam darted into his bedroom and exchanged his towel wrapping for normal clothes before sneaking out of the house to spend the day doing whatever 12 year old boys do.
And there we leave him. Until dinnertime …
Sam eyed the mounds of mashed potato and tinned peas dismally. Mashed potato and peas were always the worst, visually speaking. He raised his eyes to see Ben watching him darkly from the other side of the table. As eye contact was made, Ben slowly and menacingly stuffed a forkful of peas and mash into his mouth and worked his jaw. Sam quickly looked back at his own plate, but could still feel Ben staring at him. Against his will, his gaze slowly came up, sliding across the table to Ben’s chest, chin, moving mouth parts … He saw Ben’s gaze darting quickly from parent to parent before he dropped his mouth open, exposing a glistening paste of chewed food.
Sam felt his stomach drop, but he gamely forked some dinner into his reluctant mouth. Tried to swallow, but kept seeing … It was no good, he hacked mash and peas back onto his plate and glared at Ben, bits of food dropping from his open mouth.
“Samuel Andrew Beckett!” roared his father. “If you can’t eat like a civilised human being, you can damn well go eat in the laundry with the other animals! And stop pulling faces, one day the wind’s gonna change ….”
Trundling off to the laundry with his dinner and re-dinner, Sam could hear Ben snorting with suppressed laughter, snerk snerk snerk, and felt a black hatred welling up in him, a dark wish that something horrible would happen to Ben for a change. A wish so strong, he could almost feel its physical presence. He tipped his dinner out on the back lawn, and sneaked off to bed, too upset to eat anything. His dreams were troubled, populated with monsters in Ben masks.
The next morning saw him sitting tired and dejected on the back step, last night’s dinner lying sadly at his side.
He sensed the dark presence behind him just a moment too late.
A mighty shove transferred him smartly onto the lawn, where his big brother sat on him and pulled the shirt from his wriggling body.
“Can’t have a mash bath with clothes on!” crowed Ben as he rolled Sam’s half naked body towards the mess on the back lawn.
Sam’s warm flesh cringed at it hit the cold potato sludge.
And something in him snapped.
He lashed out blindly, grabbing and twisting at Ben’s face in an effort to dislodge him. Ben’s face contorted grotesquely under Sam’s grip.
The cool breeze that had been playing against Sam’s naked torso suddenly died down ... then picked up from the opposite direction.
And under his fingers, Sam felt Ben’s new features slowly harden and set.
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Kevin Hughes
01/04/2022Darn it Hazel, now I have to be afraid of a stiff breeze. On the other hand I really do like karma. And bullies deserve what they get. So I guess I can still go out in the fresh air without shivering. Smiles, Kevin
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Hazel Dow
01/03/2022Thanks Shelly, revenge on behalf of all those kids bullied by their older siblings :-D
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Hazel Dow
01/03/2022Thanks Gail! It was based loosely on my relationship with my older sister when we were kids, so it was quite satisfying to finally and fictionally avenge myself :-D
COMMENTS (3)