Keepsakes, pt II #amreading #iartg #rzp

Hope you enjoyed the first installment. If you haven’t read, stop now and click here.

Come back tomorrow for the next installment (if you came here through Twitter you can also search for #rzp). And don’t forget to check out my book list.

George was aware of his imposing size, his mother always said how he had to be careful with people and Carol being as small as she was, he knew better, but… there’s only so far a guy could be pushed. He immediately regretted it after, wanted to run after her when she fled the room, but was too afraid of what he might still do.

He heard her screaming and knocking around in the kitchen, probably destroying it, but as soon as the anger rose up in him to run downstairs he would see that wounded face again. He couldn’t take that face again.  George sat and began to weep.

It wasn’t long before the noise stopped. George didn’t have his watch on, but he didn’t think it’d been that long, anyway. He could have blacked out for a little while.  He did that sometimes when he got angry.

“Carol?” he called. “Carol?” He crept downstairs, afraid to face her. “Carol, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I understand if you want to leave me.” He didn’t understand, but you were supposed to say stuff like that to get people to forgive you.

Of course, she was gone.

“Of course,” George had said.

“Of course,” he said now, reminiscing. He felt himself bristle with anger and pulled one more time as hard as he could and it seemed to give somewhat, but George would never know for certain because in the next instant the barbs extended to spikes, impaling George’s hands.

He pulled his hand free and fell on his butt for the second time, holding his hands up as the blood flowed freely down his forearms. He blinked twice, the pain running past the wounds to his elbows.

Thump. George looked up at the cabinet door by the sink. Thump. There was something in there, brushing against the door. George got up on his knees, ignoring the pain. He crawled over to the door and pulled it slightly ajar. The spill of light revealed a few golden strands of… something. He pulled it open slightly farther and the wedge of light revealed more golden strands. He could see something round and glistening on the surface, but the thing in front of him was a mass of parts to him.  It was slow in becoming a whole.

“Carol?” he said, yanking the cabinet door open.

Carol’s head lolled out of the cabinet, skin shriveled in patches and one remaining eye sunken and fogged over.  The other socket was a hole, the artery hanging loosely over the cheek. There were a few straggling strands of her blonde hair left, clinging to her bare skull. Her lower half was gone and what was left looked picked bare.

“Carol, no,” George whispered. His mind raced as tears filled his eyes, wondering when he had done this. His hand was cradling the back of her head, propping her up.

Thump. Carol’s head fell free from George’s hand. He scooted away from the other cabinet door and slowly pulled it open.

Thick green tentacles burst from behind the door and wrapped firmly around George’s forearm. He heard the bones crack as they began to pull. He screamed as they relentlessly drew him in, slapping his free hand above the door and pushing. George felt his shoulder jolt out the socket and his clenching muscles begin to give way. He caught site of the potted plant above the sink one last time before he was pulled in. The bud had burst open; the issuing flower turned toward him.  It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He still struggled half-heartedly, recognizing the animal grunting as his own voice. His body shook from the effort as he felt the tentacles wrapping around his thighs and waist. The plant lifted him and pulled him in except for his arm and head. He cried out one last time before his face smashed with a sharp crunch and neck and shoulder were nearly torn off as he was drawn in. His fingers hooked the cabinet door and shut it behind him.


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