All I had wanted to do was to put my hands around your neck and squeeze the life out of you while you sleep. The pleasure would have been all mine; but I knew you would have to scream and yell, so I had chosen to shoot you in the head instead.
I am free! I’m finally free from you! I’m now free of all your mental insults, all of your belittling remarks and drunken diatribes and your physical abuse! Finally, I am happy! Happy to be the victor of your seemingly never-ending battles! I remember standing on top of your body after it was done, jumping up and down just a few more times to make sure you were really dead, before dragging you into the backyard where I had dug the hole that you deserved to now spend the rest of eternity. I planted a vegetable garden on top of your body - the ears of corn now so succulent, I often pluck them out, cook them and eat them. I did all this so it would be like I was feasting on your flesh.
I want to let you know that this is giving me tremendous entertainment just by knowing you are there underneath all that soil and watching me eat the veggies that your flesh cultivates yet you can’t curse at me, or beat me, or do anything to me in return. Haha!! What do you think of that?
Late this evening, I had the nerve to dig deep into the soil to open the box that now contained you. I wanted to take a look at what had become of you after six months have gone by. I found that a lot of worms had been eating what remained of you, your mouth gaping open in a scream in silent horror.
Gosh! What a pleasant surprise to see you in that helpless state, rather than the powerful state that you had always appeared to be. It gives me great pleasure to know that you were horrified and could not even scream, much like the way I was when you came at me each time during your drunken binge. Now you can have a taste of how it was like for me. You don’t like it one bit. Don’t you?
Now, with worms feasting on what remains of your decomposing flesh, and I can’t help but rejoice at what I have seen this evening. I begin to shovel the soil back on top of your pine box (suddenly distracted by the thought that perhaps a hefty bag would have suited you better) and bury you deep once again, so I don't ever have to look at you again.
While encasing you once more beneath the worm-infested dirt, one of the damn things leaped up at me. NO!!! Eat him, not me!!!... You dumb worm!!! I shouted at it, and took the spade and slammed its edge down on it, breaking it into halves. Okay, you foolish worm!....back to the hole you go! Now you must keep this big guy happy! You’ve got to go back in there and keep him company. He needs you as much as you need him! I silently told the silly worm.
Once more, I unearthed the grit and shoved the worm as deep as I could back into the box, closed the lid, and then and added some few feet of more soil over the top. Then I put my vegetable garden back on top into place and added some water. Now, my garden of vegetables looks fine and healthy once again.
Listen…I’ve got to make it look like it has never been touched. This nosy neighbour of ours, Mrs. Marble, seems to come by too often to check up on me. Once I caught her trying to pluck one of my ears of corn to keep as her own. I would not allow stealing, and she had no business being in my garden in the first place. It was good timing that I just happened to peek out my window and caught her in action. I ran out to give her a slap on her hand and escorted her out of my garden. It was no use to charge her for trespassing because she is a little old lady and would never survive if she were sent to prison. But I promise myself… one of these days… if she ventures too far in here, I would take care of her too, and she could keep you company then. I would place her next to you.
I took a triumphant glance at my handiwork, smiled and cut several cobs and went back into the kitchen and threw them in the boiling water. Perhaps I should add a tomato vine to my new garden, and make some tomato sauce for some spaghetti. Corn, spaghetti - my meals are quite simple these days with you being gone - there’s no one here to beat me or give me hell if I don’t put out a feisty meal. Now I just cook whatever that comes to mind, and miraculously, sometimes whatever I’ve whipped up tastes quite good.
With the ears of corn now cooked, I reached toward the utensil drawer to fetch a knife. To my disgust and horror, as I slid the drawer open, something jumped at me!
Gosh! It was the wretched worm! Half of it must have crawled in here from the garden! Wait a minute! I thought I had buried it in the soil, but did I just buried half and left the other half out? I remember using my index finger to push that half a worm back into the soil, but I can’t remember what I had done with the other half! This half now looked so much larger than it was the first time I saw it in the garden! How can that be? Had it grown larger just because it has come into contact with fresh air?
I held onto my knife and slammed the handle down on it. It dodged, and I could only get it halfway. Two eye-balls stuck out from the damn worm! They looked like yours! The half a worm stretched out its neck and bit my hand. It’s got teeth!!! It left its two bite marks on the top of my right hand! It looked as large as a snake bite!!! How can that be? It's a worm! It's not a snake!
I screamed in pain and horror; grabbed a jar off the counter and threw it at you – the worm. You dodged again and the jar missed. You lay there on the kitchen counter - half a worm - your eyes bulged out from their sockets; your tongue stuck out, hissing and laughing at me the same time. Your laughter had become louder and louder; as you grew larger and larger.
“Stop! Damn you! You drunken nut! I thought I had buried you in the yard. Go back to where you come from!” I was totally confused. This wretched worm looked so much like you.
You paid no attention to my command, yet stretched forward and came at me once again. When you reached me you became small like a worm again and landed on my upper wrist. I tried to scrape you off, but you held on tight. It seemed like you held on to my wrist like a leach, poking a hole on my skin and began sucking my blood. I screamed as you continued to dig further into my skin and tried to squirm your way underneath. I used the knife to stab you but missed, and I stabbed myself in the wrist instead!
OUCH!! YOU CRAZY WORM!!! I'LL FIX YA!!! I screamed. I felt excruciating pain! I opened the kitchen drawer and took out a large kitchen knife. You ain't gonna get me! You drunken nut!" I stabbed and chopped at the worm. It split into more halves of tiny worms as I watched my own wrist spill blood. It began to pour down my arm now, splattering all over the kitchen floor. The worms have now turned into many pieces, but those pieces are still alive and crawling! They crawled underneath my skin and inching toward my chest. The discomfort and pain were unbearable. I couldn’t bear it anymore, I've got to get them out of me!
Wait! The worms are now nearing my shoulder, perhaps I should cut from my shoulder down, so they will not be able to get to my chest!
Like a deranged maniac, I held up the large chopping knife and began chopping off my arm to separate it from my shoulder. There! You sucker! You can't get close to my chest now, can you? My arm just fell to the floor.
Blood was pouring out of me now, faster than ever before. The whole kitchen was now looking like a bloodbath. I felt sick and dizzy like I was going to faint. I was now in excruciating pain. I have only one arm left. As I lay there on the kitchen floor, more worms crawled to my face, they dug holes on my cheeks and crawled in. Now I felt them in my chest!...
NO!!!!...You creepy crawlers you! You're not gonna get my heart!
I gave myself one final thrust of the knife to my chest!...Ahhhhhh!!!!!
Yes, you are absolutely right! The husband's body should have been in a garbage bag. Why would he even be deserving to be buried in a box? Ahhh!!! How in the world could the woman get a box inside the house to bury him in without raising some suspicions from that nosy neighbour, Mrs. Marble? Hmmm... Okay, I will correct that part of the story. Thanks for pointing it out!
Oh, but the part you thought the woman did not faint after chopping off her arm is false. She must have fainted many times. Since she was the only one in the house, she probably did not know that she had fainted every time she came to; but even if she knew she had fainted it would not be necessary for her to announce “I must have fainted” to herself. She was in too much pain to even be thinking about whether or not she had fainted. In a short film, it would be "show and not tell".
Sandie :)
Reviewed by Danny Underwood
6/4/2018
Worms possessed and take revenge on the woman, or should I say the woman was possessed and killed self. Whichever it is, it's a great fictional crime/horror story! Glad I didn't miss this. After reading this the second time, I have renewed my comment.
Thanks for tagging me!
Dan
Reviewed by Jane Noponen Perinacci
5/21/2018
I found this story very creepy, Sandie. At times I became anxious, well, many times! The ravings of a mad woman and she takes the cake at the end! Sandie, may I congratulate you on this style of writing. 'Enjoyed!!
Reads like a revenge story. The worms being a manifestation of guilt for having killed a husband. It would be nice if you made it more psychological or dream based rather than using devices that are not real or possible like "jumping" worms and the idea that cutting a worm in half would instantly create two worms.
A couple of pointers: the neighbor nosily observing what she was doing is a nice side story, but they don't send people to prison for stealing vegetables. ;-)
Once again it must be imagination working for you to have her plant her husband in a deep (several feet?) grave in a pine box (?). And the idea of a garbage bag or large Hefty bag, while it makes more sense, would mean that it would be years before any of the nutrients from the husband's body would be available to nurture a garden. Much better, and more logical, would be to just to bury him in a shallow grave with no other protection so that the worms and beetles would get to work quicker and the roots of the corn not have to wait several years to become nourished.
But this is fiction… Crazy fiction… Some rules of logic can be averted to make the story more effective, like chopping your own arm off without fainting from the pain. Bleeding to death while doing that is still a sure thing.
Wow! That is some horror story (tale), Sandie. Gives me the creeps, which is what horror tales ought to do. Very imaginative. Love, peace, and best wishes,
Did you ever wonder what happened after the Archangel Michael through the demons out of heaven? Let one of them guide you through the origin of evil in the world.
