|The Final Rest
Author: Katze Schiller PM
Death is the final rest, or is it?Rated: Fiction M - English - Horror/Supernatural - Words: 887 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 1 - Published: 01-22-12 - Status: Complete - id: 2990933
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The Final Rest
Finally, the stiffness was beginning to remove itself from him, allowing him to relax upon the cushions. He had been stuck in the same uncomfortable position, arms crossed over his chest and body board straight, for the past few days, and it had been the most uncomfortable sensation he had ever felt. Of course the fact that he smelled of chemicals did not make things easier. He wanted to put the stench in one room, and rest in yet another, but his accomodations were not that spacious. So what now? Would things begin to fall apart, ensuring that he could do nothing, except stare into the darkness for an eternity?
He could hear scraping sounds on the other side of the door, someone was coming for him. He mentally shook, wondering if they would really be so low as to rob someone like him? True he had no use for his possessions, but they were friendly reminders of how things used to be. He knew they would be disappointed, there was nothing of much worth with him, just a bunch of letters Victoria had written to him while they were only dating, a picture that Anna had drawn for him (it had sported a special place in his office as it was his favorite of her works), Mr. Moose (a teddy bear that his son Johnny had slept with every night until a few days ago, but Johnny had not wanted his father to be alone and so Mr. Moose would now reside with him), and his wedding ring. The ring would be worth something, but they wouldn't dare take something so personal from a poor man like him, would they?
The intruders slowly opened the door as if they thought the man would attack them.
"He looks to be in pretty good condition. I wonder what the hell he died of?"
"If you had any sense, you would have read the tombstone and seen that he had been shot. Defending someone or something like that."
"Well, so long as the bullet hole isn't too noticable, he should do."
The two men lifted him out of his home, carried him to a car, and dropped him into the trunk. The lid shut with a loud thud, and no other sound could be heard for a good half an hour until the engine started up. The car bounced around forever, or so it felt to him. They had made no effort to constrain him in the trunk, and so he ended crashing his head into the sides of the trunk, and landing in positions that screamed of pain. He called to them to let him out, but no one replied.
The car eventually stopped, and the two goons opened the trunk and began carrying him to a rather large house. The stars were unobstructed by any other source of light, and he could hear crickets and frogs chirping off in the distance, he knew he had to be very far away from home. He was carried up to what he believed was a guest bedroom, though it was so elaborate that it easily could have been a master bedroom in a stately house. They placed him upon the bed, and arranged him so that he would be comfortable. "Gee thanks," he thought "make sure that I am comfortable after you drug me across the state in a trunk. Real courteous." The two goons left, and silence pervaded the room.
About half an hour later, a homely woman walked in. She wore only a slip, which caressed every single roll of fat to be found upon her body, which was a considerable number. Her shoulder-length dung-colored hair looked as if it had taken a swim and then dropped the hair dryer in the tub with it. Her acne infested skin was like pale yellow latex when you stretch only a part of it, way too tight in some places and shriveled in others. She looked at him tenderly for a moment before she began to draw the shades and dim the lights.
"Oh my, how do all of these boys keep dying so young? And they are always so cute too! It is almost as if death loved me."
I wanted to dive out of the window, mutilation would be better than what she was suggesting. I begged God for mercy. I told him that I had been faithful, I had gone to church every day, I had been the best man that I could be. Why did he not remove my soul from my body upon death? And now, why was he allowing this woman to do this to me? Had there been any other fluid in my body besides formaldehyde, I think I would have cried at that moment, but I could not, I could only lie back and watch in horror as this woman seeked to dominate me. I screamed at her, and pleaded for mercy, but she did not pay any attention to my pleas, she just continued to get ready for our first night together. She smiled as she walked towards me, slowly removing the slip from her vile body.
"You ready for the reward of the afterlife?" She did not wait for a reply.