G. Wright: Broken Things

“Oh I’d love to,” he lied, “But we’re really busy at work. It’s so bad that I even had to bring it home with me. Maybe once we finish this project and things slow down again.”

“You’re that busy? I could stay out of your way while you worked.”

“I’ve really got to focus, Gloria. In fact how about I call you later? Maybe in the morning?”

“Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, just fine. I really got to go.”

“Sometimes I think you don’t want to see me,” she said with a huff, “Call me when you decide you’ll have time for me.”

She hung up on him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn’t want to chase her away, but it did help keep her from asking to move in. She wanted to be less of a booty call, and he wanted less of a relationship. They hadn’t found a middle ground yet. Regardless, right now it didn’t matter. He just needed his focus back, if he got too distracted this wouldn’t be nearly as fun.

He opened the door and foul, stale air greeted him. The light was out, and he’d boarded up the windows to prevent any escape attempts. He tried to turn the lights on, but the room remained dark. Maybe the bulbs were burnt out.

“Hey kid, wake up.”

She didn’t reply. If she’d hurt herself, it would ruin his entire weekend. He propped the door open wide to let as much light in from the hallway as possible. The other doors in the house were locked if she tried to run. He could catch her before she would be able to get them open. He dragged a chair over beneath the ceiling light and grabbed a new bulb from the hallway closet. Her dark shadow hid in the furthest corner from him, cowering.

But the room smelled so foul. She’d probably messed herself. He’d deal with that next. He climbed up on the chair and removed the cover to the light. The bulb had been removed. Could the girl be that clever?

“You like the dark or something?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. He screwed the new bulb in. He heard her move from her corner. This could still be fun , he thought, maybe she’s going to run now . The light came on, almost blindingly. He never looked away in time when he changed bulbs.

He looked down expecting to see the girl. Instead he stared into the horrid, rotting visage of someone that looked dead and dug up. It startled him so bad he lost his balance. With his arms flailing the chair tipped to the side and he fell hard to the floor.

The thing stared down at him and said, “I prefer the dark.” It kicked the door closed and turned out the lights.

Lance scrambled backward, a horrible pain emanating from his hip from how he’d landed. He tried to listen for the thing, to tell where it was, but he couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of blood in his ears. “Who are you?” he shrieked.

He felt hot moist breath against his cheek. “I let the girl out,” the thing said with a voice like loose gravel, “I thought we should be alone.”

Lance did not quite last a week.

G.S. Wrightis an author in Southern Idaho. His debut novel is Broken Things. He writes. A lot. All the time. Sometimes he watches movies, plays guitar, or sleeps. He has a beautiful wife (that keeps him from starving) and three children that he is failing to raise as ninjas. He also has a zombie survival plan.

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Copyright © 2013 G.S. Wright

Published by G.S. Wright

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