Blood Trails
By Brian Rosenberger
Dad and I use to go hunting in these woods a lot when I was a kid. I told my girl Jean how picturesque the woods were, especially in the Fall when the leaves were just beginning to change color and the lake was post card perfect. Most of the vacationers had already headed back to their nests and we would have it practically to ourselves. Perfect place to camp. She fell in love with the idea so much that she blabbed it to her friend Mary Ellen. That’s how our romantic getaway became a foursome.
Mary Ellen brought along her beau, Juan. I knew Juan only peripherally but the few times we had spent together, he seemed alright.
Juan was the first to go. There’s no telling how long he wondered around in the dark unable to scream. Quite awhile judging from the blood trails. He had been stripped of his eyes and tongue at knife point. That’s what I told the girls, not to scare them, but to alert them, whoever did this to Juan wasn’t fucking around.
Mary Ellen was next. We heard her screams. She headed out on her own instead of sticking with us. Dumb bitch. I warned her but she wouldn’t listen. That had always been her problem. Deaf ears, loud mouth. Her screams echoed.
Jean’s out there now wondering around with only the moon and the bugs to keep her company. I told her to stay put while I went to check on Mary Ellen. Not much to check on after Dad gets through with them. He’s always liked the ladies best. But he promised he’d let me have a stab at Jean first. He had better. Otherwise I’ll kill the son-of-a-bitch and he damn well knows it.
It’s in the blood.
- - -
Brian Rosenberger lives in a cellar in Marietta, GA and writes by the light of captured fireflies. His most recent book is And For My Next Trick and a collection of his short stories awaits release in October. Additional updates can be found at
http://home.earthlink.net/~brosenberger.
By Brian Rosenberger
Dad and I use to go hunting in these woods a lot when I was a kid. I told my girl Jean how picturesque the woods were, especially in the Fall when the leaves were just beginning to change color and the lake was post card perfect. Most of the vacationers had already headed back to their nests and we would have it practically to ourselves. Perfect place to camp. She fell in love with the idea so much that she blabbed it to her friend Mary Ellen. That’s how our romantic getaway became a foursome.
Mary Ellen brought along her beau, Juan. I knew Juan only peripherally but the few times we had spent together, he seemed alright.
Juan was the first to go. There’s no telling how long he wondered around in the dark unable to scream. Quite awhile judging from the blood trails. He had been stripped of his eyes and tongue at knife point. That’s what I told the girls, not to scare them, but to alert them, whoever did this to Juan wasn’t fucking around.
Mary Ellen was next. We heard her screams. She headed out on her own instead of sticking with us. Dumb bitch. I warned her but she wouldn’t listen. That had always been her problem. Deaf ears, loud mouth. Her screams echoed.
Jean’s out there now wondering around with only the moon and the bugs to keep her company. I told her to stay put while I went to check on Mary Ellen. Not much to check on after Dad gets through with them. He’s always liked the ladies best. But he promised he’d let me have a stab at Jean first. He had better. Otherwise I’ll kill the son-of-a-bitch and he damn well knows it.
It’s in the blood.
- - -
Brian Rosenberger lives in a cellar in Marietta, GA and writes by the light of captured fireflies. His most recent book is And For My Next Trick and a collection of his short stories awaits release in October. Additional updates can be found at
http://home.earthlink.net/~brosenberger.
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