Aunt Maude

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A visit to a well loved Aunt proves enlightening.

Submitted: June 28, 2017

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Submitted: June 28, 2017

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Aunt Maude

 

Refusing any help Aunt Maude hobbled from the kitchen to her parlor perfectly balancing her tea cup and saucer. As she settled into her favorite and well worn chair she eyed me with what I took at the time as a bit of suspicion. She sipped at the hot brew while watching me as I found a clear spot on the sofa to sit.

 

“ Oh for God’s sake Ronald sit down. There’s nothing there to bite you. Of course heaven forbid your trouser crease or hair would fall out of place.”

 

I laughed and sat my own cup of tea on the end table. “ I wasn’t aware I had the reputation of being so concerned about the minutia of my appearance Aunt.”

 

“ Really Ronald? My, as a child you would scream as if murdered if you muddied your shoes. And your mother...God bless her but she babied you so. But let’s get to the reason for your visit. A little bone picking over my things. Come to make claim of the silver or the hutch...or maybe the house? Eh? I saw your quick appraisal of the old place as you pulled into the drive.”

 

“That is unfair Aunt. I came by to simply see how you are. A nephew can do that without so much suspicion? Besides it’s been ages since we’ve seen each other and I  thought it would be a nice surprise.”

 

“ A nice surprise would have been a visit when Harold passed. I found him you know. Three days dead and mouldering away in that high back he favored. Horrible. The flys and that smell. Should have been you, boy, to find that mess. Toughen you up a bit.”

 

“ My God Aunt, you don’t have to go in such detail. And despite what you think I’m tough enough. Finding dead bodies, I would think, does not make one tough.”

 

“ You think not Ronald? Toughened me up I can tell you. Makes one think too. Makes one think about the darker things.”

 

“ Why don’t we have some more tea and discuss more pleasant things? I’m off for New York tomorrow. Be away a good while.”

 

Aunt Maude smiled and leaned toward Ronald smiling, showing yellowed jagged teeth. “ You don’t know. You have no idea?”

 

“ Idea of what? Know what?”

 

Maude pushed back in her chair and opened her mouth. She opened so wide. Impossibly wide. I watched in horror as her jaw seemed to dislocate and a foul odor immediately filled the room. She laughed a low strangled laugh as her bulging eyes stared directly at me. I couldn’t turn from her.

. A single fly crawls from her tongue and climbs to her lower lip and  I drop my cup. A second, third and fourth fly leaves her mouth and settles on her cheek. Staring, too  frightened to move I watch hundreds of flies pouring from her gaping mouth, filling the room. I stand, stumble, regain my balance and bolt for the door. Maude yells after me.to stop.

 

“ Going to let a few flies scare you off Ronald?”

 

She shuffles toward me. Old urine has darkened her night gown. She smells of something horrid. She smells of death.  I freeze in fear at her approach. Not until I see the fire poker  leaning in the corner next to me could I move.. I snatch it up and swing wildly striking  my aunt a vicious blow to the forehead opening a gaping wound. Thick yellowish liquid pours from the it  followed by dozens of black death beetles. Aunt Maude laughs and continues toward me. I take the horrible makeshift weapon and thrust it deep into her chest where it lodges. She stays her course toward me, new found hate in her eyes. Her gnarled hands touch my cheeks and then she brushes hair from  my forehead. “ You can’t kill the dead Ronald. Only desecrate them. Now give your old aunt a kiss before you have to go.

 

When her lips touch mine the world begins to fade...

 

eNd

This was written some time back and I can not recall posting it. If so a new reader may find it as offensive as I do.
Trivia: I had an Aunt Maude who stabbed me with a frog gig. She was quite insane and yet we kept her at the farm dispite her attempted murder. I miss her so.



© Copyright 2017 Bob W. Kasch. All rights reserved.

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