A Fair Cut

Happy Halloween dearest spirits from here and beyond! Welcome to my newest collection of flash stories, apparently a tradition I'm trying to cement for myself. Last year I completed a series called "The Wicked Carousel", one flash story a week at 1000 words or under. It was fun! And exhausting. So I thought I might just cool my heels in the black water pond this year, but when the wind whispers through white skeletal trees . . . you listen! So welcome to "Fright Feast", another collection that I'll be putting together as an anthology on this wondrous new community available to us. Hopefully I'll complete a story every two weeks.

CW: Murder of pets, murder of a person

And Now . . . Relax . . . and Take A Bite . . .

Phillip Hutchers was the jewel of his town, and the apple of his parents' eyes. A senior, the striker of his soccer team, handsome, with his choice of schools and scholarships, there was nothing he could do wrong in the eyes of most townsfolk.

So long as he brought glory to their fields and the eyes of top recruiters to his town, nobody cared about a few . . . youthful discretions. In fact, Phillip was walking towards one of his most frequent . . . youthful discretions. His saunter slowed down to shuffling then ceased in front of Old Mrs. Marrow's house. That old woman had been old by the time Phillip had been born, and when he finally reached an age to carry out his own mischief away from parental vision, she had been one of his first and most frequent targets.

Phillip stood, contemplative, in front of the Bone House. Named so because of Mrs. Marrow, and the particular unimaginative yet spiteful whims of teenage boys. Two stories, once white paint chipped in places and filth stained in others. Dusty windows and an unkempt lawn suggested that the house had been abandoned for a while- about three years, Phillip had to guess, as that was the last time he'd seen the Marrow hag. Wiry white hair that formed a ragged halo around her wizened face, half-moon glasses and her trusty cornflower blue cardigan draped over tiny stooped shoulders, and Phillip would never forget the way she just always seemed to look through him.

Like she saw all he was and would be, and found him extremely disappointing. "Old bitch." Phillip muttered underneath his breath, gently kicking at the weed choked fence.

Enraged by this seeming violation of both his soul and his ruse, Phillip would target her especially for his pranks. Watering her petunias with gasoline, slashing the ropes of her porch swing, always egging her house during Halloween, and even poisoning a couple of her cats. That last one carried a little too much heat and had him lying low, and was coincidentally the last time he ever saw her. Spittle flying from her thin-lipped mouth as she screeched and hollered, hands shaking to the sky as she croaked on and on about her poor, stupid cats.

And now, three years later and ready to begin his life outside of this boring, pathetic little town, Phillip stood once more in front of the Bone House as he'd done so many times in his youth. Smirking, he leaned over the gate and spit directly onto the cracked, pavement leading up to the house. "Hope you're burning in hell you old hag." Phillip muttered under his breath.

He started to turn and take a step forward when his foot hit something small but heavy. Freezing, he looked down to see a carved pumpkin by the gate post. When the hell . . . Phillip did not recall seeing this when he was walking up the way. He grabbed it and brought it up to eye view, turning it around. The mouth was comically wide and the eyes were carved into squiggly lines. Scoffing, Phillip turned and slammed the pumpkin down, impaling it on the post.

"Still haven't learned to keep your hands to yourself Phillip?" The grouchy call sent a jolt of fear through Phillip and had him jumping back before the voice registered.

"M-Mrs. Marrow?" Phillip stuttered, eyes wide as he looked upon the old woman standing on the porch. Same half-moon glasses and cardigan, but her hair was carefully pulled back into a bun, and her mouth was pursed with displeasure.

"Close your mouth Phillip, you're not a guppy." Mrs. Marrow quipped, and Phillip shut his mouth, grinding teeth hiding the curses he'd like to hurl. Mrs. Marrow's eyes twinkled like she knew what he was thinking about.

Bitch! Phillip thought. "I, uh . . . I thought you'd moved town Mrs. Morrow."

"Oh, I'm sure it was a lovely thought for you Phillip," Mrs. Morrow retorted. "But I'm still here. And since you destroyed that pumpkin, you'll come in here and help me grab the others. I'm decorating for Halloween, and I'm sure you'd like to personally choose where your targets are placed."

Phillip was just unable to turn on the golden charm that usually served to get him out of trouble. He was never able to fool Mrs. Morrow, but still he hid the seething anger he felt towards the hag and smiled, if rather stiffly. "Of course, Mrs. Morrow. Sorry, just . . . don't know what came over me."

As he walked up the path, Mrs. Morrow sniffed and said nothing until he walked up the porch steps, and moved to open the door. "The same thing, I expect, that got into Isabella and Rosalina. You're poison, Mr. Hutchers."

Phillip stumbled over the doorstep, whipping around to look at Mrs. Morrow. "I don't know what-"

"Oh, don't." Mrs. Morrow snorted, and with a wave of her hand Phillip was lifted off his feet by an invisible force and thrown into the house. Mrs. Morrow followed in sedately, and the door closed with no one touching it.

No one saw any of what just occurred. No one heard the shrill scream of Phillip Hutchers.

But they sure did hear his mother's screams, when she walked outside and saw both the pumpkin and Phillip's head impaled on her fence.

If you liked this story, please like and share! And stay tuned for the next intallment. Until then, happy hauntings~!