“I hate this thing!” A sudden frown seized her face, a drastic change of expression that left David shaking. She balled her fists and slammed them onto his chest. “It’s a constant reminder. ‘You are dead. You are dead!’ That’s what it tells me in the mirror!”
“It’s sort of ironic… contradictory… coincidence―shit, I don’t know what it is―that all this time I’ve been dying to tell someone about dying. To spill my guts about the time someone tried to spill my guts!”
She lowered herself, closing in on his face, and he noticed something different about her. Two of her front teeth had elongated. They tapered off into a sharp point at the end. Those teeth glistened with too much saliva. A drop of it splattered his cheek.
“I only wanted to talk about it. I meant you no harm. But you didn’t want to listen. You wouldn’t listen to me!”
He shook his head, little beads of perspiration going wild.
“What’s the matter, David? Finally speechless?”
Lindsey Beth Goddard’s stories have appeared in numerous online / print magazines, and over half a dozen anthologies as well. For questions and comments, feel free to contact her at [email protected]
Thank you for reading.
Respect For The Dead Page 11
