Literally

An unsettling short story by Monty Milne

He heard those words. Those words. They shot through his head like a comet. Like a burning, fiery comet. She had said them. Those words. Sally Fuller had said those words. "I never want to see you again!" Ever. She would never see him again. Ever.

Anthony Christie walked briskly down the worn sidewalk that ran alongside of North Encore Avenue. His unkempt, curly, brown hair flopped uncomfortably in the shallow breeze. His frantic, green eyes searched along the row of sturdy red brick houses with glazed anticipation. As he stealthily passed number twenty-seven, he broke stride and reduced his pace to a casual walk. His fidgety hands were tightly clenched inside the woolen pockets of his faded, brown leather jacket. As Anthony passed by the shuttered window of Sally Fuller’s house, he saw only the empty, inviting furniture of her living room. Anthony knew the window in the middle was Sally’s window. He had known that since he spied on her family from the oak tree across the street a couple of days after Sally and her family had moved in. Even then, as his nine-year-old hands twitched slightly, he had been intrigued with her. He had watched her grow throughout his years at Benton Elementary School, Carruth Middle School, and finally up to their senior year at Robert Ehrlich High School. His scruffy tennis shoes scraped the concrete sidewalk as he shuffled past her home, directing his attention four-and-a-half blocks down the street on his rusted red mailbox.

She had said those words - those burning words - at school in the student parking lot. In her black mini-skirt. With her heaving chest and full blonde hair. "I never want to see you again!" those blue eyes screamed. Her soft rose colored lips and slim hips never wanted to see him again. She would never see him again. Ever.

Anthony turned left at the end of his neighbor’s brown picket fence and made his way diagonally across his lawn. He mounted the step while he groped for his house key. Dreamily, he envisioned the scheme he had thought up as he stalked wildly away from the group of teenagers that taunted him after she called him a pervert.

He had asked her to the senior prom and she had refused, insultingly and nastily, in fact. This unforeseen embarrassment was the last straw. He smiled thinly through crooked, yellow teeth at the mental picture that flashed in his head. He slid the key smoothly into the lock and clicked it open after a brief pause. Looking upward at the pinkish-blue evening sky, Anthony felt relaxed for the first time since his encounter with Sally. He turned the knob to the front door and walked into his house.

He walked into his house. His house. His big, quiet house. He walked through the kitchen and up the stairs. He turned right and, silently, crept past his parents' room. "Anthony," his father’s gruff voice filled his head; it pressured him as it had so many times before. "Let’s see a little motivation, eh? There’s opportunity right outside the front door, so go grab what you desire. The world is yours for the taking."

He walked to his door. His bedroom door. He went into the untidy mustard-yellow room and rummaged through records, Playboys, and empty beer cans. Rummage, rummage, rummage. He found the items he was searching for. He found his leather pocket-pouch and his knife. His long knife. His long, sharp combat knife. The dusty, gray carpet kicked-up dirt as he walked across it to leave his room. He was going to meet Sally as she left work. Before he left his house he stopped down the hall to say good-bye to his parents.

Anthony headed back up North Encore Avenue with determination in his step. Ferry’s Ice Cream was two blocks up and four blocks over, and Anthony realized he had only six minutes to reach it. Sally got off work at six o’clock each Thursday ( Anthony had her schedule down to a tee ), so he quickened his pace over the next six blocks.

He arrived on Apollyon Street at two minutes of six. Anthony stopped to catch his breath and scope out the situation. As he stood on the corner, his pale skin glowing in the chilly darkness, he peered into the large plate glass window of the colorful ice cream store. For a moment Sally appeared and came into view. Her coat was on. She looked ready to go out and mount her orange 10-speed which was locked to the dim street lamp in the alley. Anthony quickly snaked across the fresh blacktop and disappeared into the misshapen shadows in the alley. He waited for Sally to exit the door.

Those words glided out the door. They walked with beauty and grace. They hated him. He moved silently behind her. He positioned his knife. His long, sharp, pointed knife. She turned. Slash! Slash! Scream! Slash! Whimper, moan. She would never see him again. Gorge. Gorge. Ever.

Anthony was sneering victoriously as he darted down the black alleyway to make his way home. He knew the path well, even in the darkness. Backyards were crossed and dead end streets were traveled down on the journey. Anthony reached his back door, grasped the golden handle, and let himself in. He heard sirens blaring faintly in the distance as he ascended the staircase. He walked straight to the bathroom, opening the door slowly upon entrance.

He took out his leather pocket-pouch. His leather pocket-pouch held those words. He dumped those words into the toilet. Plop! Plop! He flushed the toilet. Those words swirled around and around and around. He grinned as Sally Fuller’s eyeballs were sucked into the sewer.

He left the bathroom and entered his parent’s bedroom. He crossed the dark red carpet and stood in front of the closet. He opened the closet door. He stared at his parents. His dead parents. His dead, decaying parents. They had said "We can’t live in this house with you!"

Related posts:

A supply chain is a network between a company and its suppliers to produce and distribute a specific product to the final buyer according to Investopedia. Which also means, the way a producer…

Shana Tova and Happy 5780 to all of those celebrating this week…and buenos dias from 35,000 feet. I’m headed to South Summit in Madrid where I’ll be participating in a panel on B2B technology and…

Since early 2017 there are daily quizzes that are being posted on Twitter. Not all of them are completely solved, and some have no answer at all. This is an overview of them.