Cutting the Binds

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
This story is originally named, "The Accident". I changed the title for reasons that it does not compile the story in what it is actually is. This is a story about revenge and the actual truth of how this revenge came to be. The truth is in the end of the story.

Submitted: January 14, 2019

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 14, 2019



She is sitting in the hospital with the secret under her shirt. She could not tell anyone of the secret that is hidden there when this is the third time that she is in the hospital with her inexpensive purse that is upon her lap. There are others sitting in the waiting area with the clock ticking down the minutes to midnight with her secret hurting her, like her heart that is hurting her to the point that she can feel that her heart is no longer beating inside her chest in a nonlinear standpoint. She cannot tell anyone with the exception of the doctor that should be arriving in ten minutes or thirty minutes, one hour or more. She kept her thin arms around her chest when she looked over towards the man that is familiar in her memory, not catching of where she met the man when the man looked at her with a sort of something jutting out of the ground that he cannot shake. The man is grabbing the object in the ground of his mind when he cocked his head, looking and waiting for a seat next to her when he looked at the clock and then looked at the rest of the people that are waiting for the ten or more doctors in the hospital that is large as Walter Reed.

The pain hurt her worse than the last time when she winced at the feel of the discoloring that is turning over to blackness in the natural graphs of her skin as she waited and waited still. The man looked at the wall and then looked at her again when a doctor came out with his stethoscope pursed into his front pocket. He has a smile upon his lips for a man that is in his fifties when the woman with the secret under her shirt smiled at the doctor that she might remember, might not when she conceived nothing with the doctor when he brought away another victim of tragedy that is probably an accident, probably not.

Not like her. It wasn’t an accident when she didn’t realize that the man is sitting next to her in his thin windbreaker on his shoulders, looking around with his comfort being odd for a man that is peeling his eyes around the waiting room like a wolf smelling the foul scent of human that could hear before he started talking. Is he the big, bad wolf? She didn’t know when the pain started to hurt her more and more.

“You look like a woman that has been here before. Have you?” The man didn’t look at her when the woman looked at his profile, seeing the stubble grow on his cheeks when she looked at the clock that is within the waiting room.

“It is better not to look at each other for what I am about to speak of.” The man looks familiar when she moved her hand on her thigh, catching something on his skin as it smells of Old Spice or some other cheap cologne that he bought on the shelf. The woman tried not to look at him anymore when she looked at the clock and looked at it like a monolith that is giving sight to the lord that she no longer believes in anymore. She gulped when she asked what this man is talking about.

“I want to talk to you about redemption. Do you know the way to salvation?” The man looked at the wall like it is about to melt away in his specter of infinite sight. He has no emotion on his face.

“I can give it to you with no means of ever knowing what happened. I can make your wish come true. What is it that you desire?” The man stopped and looked around again like a bird that is watching a cat predator before looking at the wall again.

“If it is comfort you want then it is done. There is no price of your soul. I am just a humble traveler of heals and I am bored.” The man moved in his seat when the woman tried not to stretch. She didn’t want to wince in front of the man when the man flexed his hands into his pockets. They waited in silence for about ten seconds when she tried to look at the man and then looked at the wall again.

“What is it that you are asking me?” The woman smiled a little.

“Trying to give me the winning numbers to the Mega-Millions or something?”

The man smiled to this as well when he brought a cigarette from his inside jacket pocket and commenced to light one up.

“Hey,” The woman looked at him with his stubble still there as he flicked his Bic on the cigarette.

“You can’t smoke that cancer in here. Is it a little sacrilegious to be smoking in a hospital?” The woman swiped her hand in the air when the man puffed on the cigarette three times and then chuckled a little, snuffing the cigarette with his fingers and putting it away like a magic trick that should not be.

“We are on the second floor and I am not standing outside to smoke in the cold.” The man coughed a little when he waived his hand in the air, shelling out his so-called generosity in the waiting area with a couple other people looking at him. Some are appalled and some are disgusted by the act when the eldest that is sitting in the waiting room wanted to complain when she couldn’t get out of her wheelchair with her being so old.

“So what is it that you desire; a new car or a new job?” The man brightened with his lips peeling from ear to ear. Then he stopped smiling when he continued to look at the wall with his attention drifting down to being irritable.

“Okay, this is waste of time.” He started to get out of his seat with the seat below him still squeaking.

“I want some peace of mind.”

The man stopped in his chair with his hands still on the handles of the seat. He slowly sat down with a smile appearing on his lips again.

“Do you now?” He looked at the magazine rack that is bolted to the wall across from them.

“How are you going to accomplish that?”

The woman felt horrible for saying this. Maybe the man is bluffing, playing some ruse with him being off of his meds or something when she licked her lips before coming closer to the man’s ear to whisper in his ear.

“I want to be free from the man that is putting me here.”

The man looked at the wall in deep thought, rubbing his chin with his eyes processing this when he looked at the wall in a blank stare before something clicked behind his eyes, smiling like finding his most precious Christmas present that is under the tree. He didn’t say anymore when he got up and walked out of the waiting room when the woman looked at the seat and then looked at the back of the man. She looked at everyone that is in the waiting area in afterthought.

What a flippin cook. The woman thought when she did not smile. She didn’t know what she was asking when she felt the wave of idiocy wash over her when she rolled her eyes and felt the pain on her body again like little knives dancing over her skin. Is it ice or is it knives. She didn’t know when she sat there for five more minutes before the doctor showed up to lead her to the exam room that is on the south side of the hospital.

It is the same song and dance with her on the night of Friday on the dawn of September 27th when it started to rain outside. It didn’t stop for at least three days when the days after is cloudy with not a fleck of sun in the sky. It is the change to coming winter in the months that follow as the leaves fell from the trees and the ice started to form on the roads to every place that people go and come from. The winters are brutal around from where she lives when at this present moment, leaving the hospital with the rain falling from the sky in droplets about the size of dimes, she felt like a prisoner in her house with a drunken man that beats her with a belt and has one of the most foulest mouths ever to conceive by a human being.

She wondered home, walking four miles to her house that is in the middle of the woods to the point that a lot of people don’t realize that there is a house in those woods but a drive that leads to something that most people don’t wonder in their busy and productive lives. The woods are ominous and dark to the peels of her imagining of something coming out of the woods to eat her up. It didn’t matter. She wanted to die when she continued to walk through the woods with her mind on the man that sat next to her in the waiting area. Where did she meet him from? She didn’t know when she pursed her hands into the pockets of her jacket as she met the front steps of her home. She didn’t have a key when she turned the knob on the front door and found it not to budge. She started to cry when she didn’t even dare to walk around to the back of the house. She remembered the last time of walking through the backdoor to the house with the steel pointing at her and the drunken, crazy man holding the gun on her when he asked where she was.

She told him that she had to go pick up milk when there is no milk in her hands, calling her a liar when he pistol whipped her. She slammed against the screen of the door when she met the darkness like the night that is upon every night as her darkness is more pure than night itself. She cried as she whimpered, going down the stairs, knowing that she will be sleeping outside as the rain continued to fall.


The man cut wood. It is meditated for him to do so with the axe yielding in his hand as he cut the wood, again and again. It is cloudy today and the temperatures are dipping by next week. The man had to get this wood cut when he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He looked around the backyard of his house when he looked at the pile that is gathered on the ground. It only took him twenty minutes to get a pile that high when he looked at the watch that is on his right hand.

He has to go to town today to get another case of Natty Ice which comes in a thirty pack as he can drink one case a day. He can’t remember after the tenth beer when he wakes up the next day with the taste of cigarette ash in his mouth and his hands under the gloat of his belly. He set the axe down against the stump when he waddled to the shed to get some water that is between the wood boards. As he did this, he noticed that there are leaves on the yard when he knows that will be cleaned soon. He shook his head and scoffed when he opened the little box that is within the porch, grabbing one of the capped water bottles that are tucked inside of it as he slammed the door closed that is screwed on hinges. He broke the seal and drank half the bottle when he glared at the leaves that are on his property, feeling like shit from his couple liters of drunkenness that he endured the night before.

His father was a drunk before heart disease got to him and he was an abuser himself. He would beat mom every night for not doing the laundry that day or not cooking his dinner at night? What his father whispered to him one night is to keep the women in place, he says. Always keep the women in place. One day, they will rule the roost and the rockets from the sky will kill us all, he says. They are the keys to the end of everything, he says. He kept talking while the boy grew up to be a man with these lessons in mind when he gathered his strength to come down the steps, feeling cold with his knees feeling like they are blocks of ice as he waddled through the yard. When he got to the trunk that serves his cutting place, the axe is absent from where he placed it.

The man looked around the area for his axe, wondering who took it when he realized it could be that bastard from across the woods that would steal everything that is not nailed down. He is a scrap and junk man that doesn’t drink and likes to talk and giggle to himself a lot. He has a dog named “Drisskivel” that he gives scraps to when he talks about the war, the war, the damn war when he could have done more than when he was there. The man likes to give him what’s for, bop him in the head like a rabbit to see if he really is a rabbit so they can scuffle for the right of living once more. The man looked in the woods for any signs of tracks at the end of their property when he looked into the woods to see if there is anyone watching him.

There is no sign of life out there with that the exception of a deer or two that are out there. He came back to the trunk that is on his property and kicked the dirt a little that is still frozen upon the ground. He looked at the shed when he wondered about the old axe that he has, shrugging when he started walking towards the doors to the shed to take a peek in there for his old wooden handled axe that is snugged up in a corner. He walked deeper into the shed where the light cannot get to his image to look around more and more with a chill that came into the air. He felt a cold breath come out of his mouth when he wondered what it is, looking to his left and then looking to his right.

The double doors to the shed behind him started to swing close in a slow manner when he turned his head to the doors that are closing in into rectangles of light that scarred the floor, then into little pieces, slits, and then turning into the shape of slivers. The doors shut when the man jogged to the doors at the same instance when something boomed on the door that kept the doors shut.

“Hey. Hey!” The man slammed his fist onto the door in repetitions that are almost deafening to his ears.

“What the hell? Open this door! Is that you, you bitch! Open this door before I really give it to you. I’m going to skull fuck you when I get out of here, you bitch!” The man slammed his fist onto the door, really getting his fat into it when outside, the axe that is absent is jammed into the doors with the hacked end into the wood in a fine slice that would take a strong man to get it out.

The woman stood six feet from the door with the shadows of the ghost behind her that is wearing a thin windbreaker that is hovering above her shoulders in a height of about two feet from the ground. He is moving the same as her when he raised his right arm as she raised her arm at the same time.

“Powers are be that the wolf is within.”

“Powers are be that the wolf is within.” They both said in unison when the woman is controlled by the ghost that she met before but cannot possibly remember in her dreams that have been watching her from time to time. The ghost came forth in the dream that is her weakness when he pondered upon the world of the living once more to see what they see in this present course, to know what they know, and to believe what they believe. It was a long time since he smoked a cigarette when he died with the smell of a Camel in his dying lungs, now the taste of a Basic with 100 Menthol cut into the tobacco. He is drifting from this world on the edge of day when he controlled the woman to ease her pain. What he did next that commanded the woman is to light the chunks of wood that is underneath the shed that he nestled there the night before when she was sleeping, digging a hole underneath the shed so she can get some sleep from the pouring rain that is outside.

The man didn’t give a shit about her when she can smell the smell of gasoline now, not waking from the dream about puppies and wealth that is basking in her calm that is most gracious for her to be alive. He commanded the body of the woman to get the two five-gallons of gas that is hidden under the thick brush of leaves that are in the woods. He commanded the body of the woman to do this when she grabbed the two five gallons of gas and hauled it back to the shed with the man thrashing about, sounding like a pig that is about to be slaughtered.

The woman stood there with the two five-gallons of gas in her hand, not showing any remorse or emotion on her face when the man continued to trash in the shed, sounding out obscenities from his foul mouth when she took the cap off of the neck and begun to pour the gas around the base of the shed like a maid tucking in the coverlets of a bed that had been slept on harshly from the night before. She did this with no emotion on her face when the man called her a whore, a bitch, a cunt, and all other manners of foulness from the English Dictionary.

When she finished, she dropped the first five gallon gas can in front of the shed’s double doors as the man started knocking the door with the blunt end of his foot. She smiled when she slowly grabbed the second gas can up and uncapped that from the neck and started pouring again. When she is finished, she brought the Zippo out of her pocket and looked at it with the salvation of the brass and steel that is within her hand. She opened up the lid when the lever clicked that is behind the fuselage, making her wake up a little when she looked around before he brought her back to sleep again. He commanded to do what is necessary when she came forward to the shed with the Zippo in her hand.

She woke up in the countryside with the smell of burning wood on her clothes. The bag is sitting between her feet when she looked up to the trees that are balding, signaling the time of the end of the year when she looked around, wondering how in the hell did she get here. A truck came bumbling up the road when she got up, feeling some paper in her right pocket when she looked down at her shirt and grabbed the paper that is within. She opened the paper and looked at it when she reads the words that are scrawled in her own handwriting:

The wolf is dead. Long live the mother.

The woman looked at it when the truck started to brake in front of her, squealing on the worn brakes that are past needing to be changed when the man that is behind the wheel of the truck rolled down the window on the passenger side.

“Where are you going? Marcellus?” The man said behind the wheel of his rig. He has a golden moustache and a girth of a man that is living well on the hog.

“I don’t know.” The woman replied with her bag between her legs.

“I don’t know.” She got up, grabbing the bag that is on the ground.

“Let’s say east. See how far I can get.”

“What?” The man said behind the wheel of his rig.

“Okay, let’s go to town and drop me off of there. I have some gas money.” The woman opened the shotgun door.

“Okay.” The man shrugged when he waited for her to drop in the seat.

The truck trundled up the road when the woman smiled for her life to turn over to a new leaf. She waited when time started to feel easy on the mind. It is easy and nothing else, so easy that she can finally get the weight of the world off of her. The time is endless when the woman smiled to the road as the lines come and go, wondering what the world will bring as the miles continue on into a more comfortable future.

*** Some years later ***

Three boys came to the house where the man is burned alive behind the house that is abandoned. No one will buy the house with the nearby town saying that the house is haunted when the three boys stood from the incline of the house with damp looks on their faces.

“Did you know that a serial killer used to live here before the couple lived here?” One of the boys spoke up from the silence that almost jumped them out of their shoes.

“Yeah; that man only killed fifteen people that were claimed to be bad from the law.” One of the other boys added in when the one that didn’t speak brought the kickstand of the bike down, getting up from his seat.

“What are you doing?” The boy who spoke first asked him.

“I’m going to take something from the house to know that this whole bit of this haunted house is bull crap.” The boy walked into the property of the house when the two boys that were talking looked at each other before looking at the boy that is walking up the steps to the house.

“Hey, Eeland; wait!” The second boy that spoke yelled when they followed behind him to the house that it is haunted. They approached and came into the darkness. They felt the cold that is all around them. It is icy when the front door slowly closed behind them.

What came after is not death but hell that scared them to the core when they ran out of the house with their bladders letting loose to the craziness that they saw. What they saw is a man with a can of Natty Ice in his hand that is scarred and burned to the point that he is unrecognizable, yelling at the boys to say out of his house or he will give them a licking that will hurt for the rest of their lives. The scarred figure jogged and scared the boys that ran out of his house that is his and always his.

The boys got on their bikes and peeled away, never to come back to the house again that is housed by a ghost that burned to death in the shed that was once behind the house.

© Copyright 2019 Adam Steele. All rights reserved.

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