A SHORT NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
This short story will be included in an anthology I’m building up so consider it a free sample of sorts.
~Artie Margrave
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Special thanks to Irma Berenice Wheeler. I’ll forever be grateful for all of your support and encouragements given me since the turn of the year. It has been priceless.
Special thanks to Terrance D. George. Glad you’ve stayed this long with us in the year. Hope you get over your depression.
Special thanks to my immediate friends, the family I chose. Your efforts will definitely not go unrewarded.
Biggest thanks to you, dearest readers, for sharing in this chiller with me. The story is never complete without you. I hope I can continue to serve you better.
AN EXCERPT FROM THE BURNT REFUGE BY ARTIE MARGRAVE
WAS that the reason the place looked empty? Had the people been aware and left? If so, then why was he here?
“Why me?” he asked.
You were the only one available. I knew your father was weak. I knew he was going to die. Then I found you. You were more suited.
He felt a draft slither past him. It was chilly.
“Suited for what?”
For… hold! Listen! Festus suddenly sounded serious.
Gerry listened. For a few seconds, he heard nothing until the soft taps of someone’s footfalls. It came from outside. He heard the footfalls on the concrete verandah and soon saw the shadow in the doorway.
Finally someone stumbled in. It was a woman. There was nothing neat about her. Her hair was rough and unkempt and her long, white dress was polluted with brown and black dirt, so much that the white was barely visible. She looked forty-something.
She glared forward like she had spotted something but Gerry had the feeling she wasn’t looking at anything in particular. Then she moved forward and Gerry noticed her stiff movement. It echoed of not being hers.
Gerry pulled the torch up and lighted it to draw her attention to him, but cautiously. She kept looking forward, advancing slowly.
“Hello,” Gerry said quietly. The savagery of this people still scared him. He didn’t want to sound unfriendly, especially as he seemed to be in the wrong place. She didn’t respond to him. She acted like he wasn’t there.
“What’s wrong with her?” Gerry asked, evidently to Festus.
I can’t place my finger on it yet. Let’s watch still.
The lady walked a few steps inside and stopped. A couple of steps separated her from the stairs. Then she turned and Gerry noticed the carving knife in her right hand. It reflected the light of the torch wickedly.
What was she going to do with it? What sort of evil spirit dwelt among them that they always thought of violence?
He looked at her face. It was empty of emotions but it was also empty of threat; just blank, plain, almost empty of her facial features in fact. It looked ghostly to Gerry, very eerie.
“Hey,” he called, “are you okay? Are you lost?”
Her body suddenly shivered like a jolt of life was injected into her. Her eyes began to move rapidly, experiencing REM. Then her mouth opened and began to release rapid, jumbled words. Then she slowed and Gerry could make out the words “we shouldn’t have” and “it was a mistake”. She muttered those words so much it didn’t seem to Gerry that she was going to stop.
Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, she raised the blade up and slit her throat.
“Oh…” Gerry cringed in horror as blood spurted from the gape in her neck and poured down her body, staining her dirty cloth from beneath. She fell forward, knees first and face twisted to the side, atop the ashes and stayed still.
“What just happened?” he said, using his free hand to grip the hairs of his head. He walked over to the lifeless body and squatted to inspect it. He saw the knife she’d used on herself and picked it. Blood stained its sharp edge.
Wondering why the woman had killed herself, he failed to notice the body that stood in the doorway. The loud thud that echoed the person’s entrance was what alerted him.
He turned sharply, pointing the light of the torch in the direction of the sound and the light fell on the brown uniform of a patrolman. His hands instinctively relieved itself of the knife. It slid to the ground with a weak sound.
“It’s not what it looks like,” he mumbled. He felt his heart skipping beats. Then the officer’s face slid into view as he took two steps inside and Gerry saw the blankness on the face; the same one the dead woman had displayed. He moved forward, same stiffness. Something was wrong.
The cop stopped. Gerry wanted to talk but chose to remain silent and see. The cop reached into his belt and removed a pistol. He turned it upside-down and placed its muzzle beneath his chin. Then Gerry noticed the rapid eye movements.
He sprang forward sharply. He knew he had to get that gun away. He didn’t make it three steps before Festus’ voice erupted in his head again, stopping him.
There’s nothing you can do for him. He’s going to find another way to kill himself even if you stop him now.
“What are you…?” Gerry started to ask before a throaty quaver made away with his attention. It’d come from the cop. He was shivering.
“Should’ve listened first…” the cop mouthed weakly and before Gerry could look away, pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunfire was deafening. Its echoes reverberated throughout the house. Blood erupted from the top of his head. Then the cop fell in the same way the woman had fallen. Blood seeped out of a misshapen hole on his head.
Gerry felt sweat pushing out of the goose bumps that’d broken out on his skin.
“What’s going on?” He barely heard himself speak. He collected his disjointed wits together and made for the door. He had to shut it. He believed that if people couldn’t come in, they wouldn’t feel so suicide inclined. Getting to the door, however, he stopped and his eyes ran white with fear.
Through the tangling masses of malignant weed and brushes of plant, the people advanced. He saw them coming; old and young, male and female.
It has started.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
TOBI is a developing writer currently pursuing a degree in Computer Science. Because of his timeless obsession for books, he’s considering becoming a librarian in the distant future. With your reviews he hopes to develop into a better writer. He currently lives in Lagos, Nigeria.
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