The Bleeding Heart Flower

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
There's something odd happening within the suburban home of Brian Trebble.
Objects missing or moved.
The eerie feeling that he isn't the only one in the house.

Brian is about to discover why.

-A four part short story-

Submitted: October 25, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 25, 2011



The Bleeding Heart Flower


It’s a Dicentra. Typically referred to as the Bleeding Heart. I just call it: The poison shit that grows in my front yard. I was told by my neighbors upon moving in to never ingest any part of it and to keep any pets I may have (which are none) away from it as well. They also told me to never, ever destroy them.

I guess they’re endangered. Or something.

Either way I was oddly pissed off at that remark, wanting to spit back that they take them and put them in their yard instead. Since they’re so precious. Of course, looking at my neighbor’s yard, I quickly realized they had plenty. They also had a small child and a puppy. The family was named the Sheratons.

I give the puppy a few weeks. The kid, well, he might just make it. Maybe.

I moved into this new home last week. It is white with pink shutters. My first job of the spring would be to paint the pink shutters. Paint them brown.

The first night in the house I slept for a cruel and enduring two and a half hours. The puppy next door has only been taught one trick since they got it. And that is to bark, which it practices daily.

And nightly.

My only hope would be the Bleeding Hearts planted around the Sheraton’s homestead. I wish, as I lay there wide awake, that they may appear as pink flesh with stripes of white, bubbly fat. Like a lean slab of steak, freshly cut from the rear end of a cow. So that the doggy may digest the poisonous flower. And then die.

The chances are hardly in my favor, but they always do say: What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

After a week the barking had not stopped. And if my ear drums could talk, they would tell me to grab the shovel front the back porch, walk across the isles of my lawn and pound the puppies head into a mound of red gruel.

I do love puppies, but the noise has caused me to experience a rather unwanted and preventable case of insomnia. Preventable because the dog could stop barking.

Needless to say I didn’t crush the doggy’s skull. I wouldn’t want to start off on the wrong foot with the Sheratons.

The Monday morning of the fallowing week marked the eighth day of no sleep because of Doggy, However. Something did have to be done.

I went to the grocery store and bought a small bag of dog food. Then went to my back yard and crushed up a small flower and sprinkled it lightly upon a small batch of doggy food pebbles that I had placed randomly in the Sheraton’s back yard.

The next night, the stars bright as ever, I slept for fourteen hours.

Bark free.

What they don't know won't hurt them.

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