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Fair-weathered Friend

With senseless reasoning, Freddie believed every lie created in his cranial abattoir. Thoughts, he butchered into lies that his shutter-speed thinking process accepted without any logical consideration.

"So you really like me?" he said to the teenage boy tied to his gym set.

No reply came; the boy died two days before.

"I love your tender breasts and long black hair, my precious."

Freddie saw only the reality burnt onto his cerebellum the moment he cracked.

"It’s alright, the bad times. Now they must end," Freddie said. "Whatever you want it to be, for you that's what it will be. We can spend eternity here together, everything will be like it should be again."

To the left of gym set, the corpses of a dozen other victims lay rotting. Freddie no longer saw or even smelt them. All logic and reasoning left his life with the death of his wife.

"You know, I think you are wrong," he said, pulling a short switchblade from his pocket. "We shouldn’t separate."

Freddie showered the blood from his body, tossed his clothes in a pile near the corpses and headed to the mall to find his wife, again.

Story by:

Scott Wilson

submitted at 6:16am

4 June 2009