There Was An Old Woman

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
The people we see through are still there.

Submitted: July 25, 2015

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Submitted: July 25, 2015

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There Was An Old Woman

Story from a line from 'She Never Sleeps' by unmasked delusions.

 

Three area boys remain missing. Police and family baffled....

..




 

***

 

Nearing dark, the old woman in the tattered black dress made her way along the streets and alleyways that would take her home. Home. An ancient four story brick and stone monster that was once home to the wealthy. Now boarded up, and slowly rotting; only Sylvia dared enter its dark and infested confines.

Inside the old woman made her way to the third floor where a small bedroom held her few possessions.  Here she would wash her one dress and torn headscarf in buckets of collected rainwater. This she would do before going through her backpack to examine the new treasures. Wonderful things thrown out by those with so much. So much.

With her dress and scarf hung and dripping from the room's single window  Sylvia wrapped a yellowed and stained sheet, sarong style, around herself and began to lay out one by one the goods from her backpack. She savored this moment. The nightly ritual of counting what was hers. A toothless grin spreads across her wrinkled face as she pulls out the first of many things. An apple core, brown and sunken with a long perfect stem that she strokes. She turns it and turns it until every detail is painted in her mind. A wonderful find. A wonderful, rare find.

Second out of the bag is a small, broken, blue bottle. Sylvia uses this treasure to make three cuts into each palm. She then takes an hour to smear bloody art on her walls.Beautiful. She laughs quietly as she works. She will not sleep tonight. Not tonight, too many things to get done.

Inside the bag there is a movement that causes the worn fabric to bulge. Sylvia slaps it lightly and thinks, ‘ Wait. Just wait your turn.’  She laughs knowing the street things hate to wait. Bees sting and spiders bite. Flies fall on filth. They don’t wait, they just do.

A catsup bottle is extracted next and  water from a bucket  is dribbled in. Shake the bottle-drink it. Sour but she downs it all. Orange peels, new that day,  just turning color, are chewed like candy. The bag is full of treats.

Taking the apple core she lifts the mattress and throws it in.  Rats scurry to it. Sylvia sprawls across the bed and opens the bag wide. The new rats crawl under her sheet and begin to nest. Sylvia smiles.

In the closet old plaster falls like chalk dust as the last living boy whisperes his mother's name...............end

 


© Copyright 2017 Robert Kasch. All rights reserved.

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