The Fool
Reverse: The choice made is likely to be foolish.
It wasn’t until the next day that I buried Pumpkin in the back yard. After I had stopped laughing that night I had sent Isabella back home, telling her never to set foot on my property again, she protested, but I think the glare I gave her, and the dried blood on my hand frightened her enough, at least for the night. The rest of the night I spent lying with Pumpkin, stroking her fur, and talking to her, apologizing again and again. When dawn finally broke I saw the full affects of her injuries, a wound to the head had been fatal, probably killed her instantly.
Thank God for simple offerings.
I dug the hole in the back yard under the tree, which took me hours in itself. When I finished I managed to lower her body as gently as I could into the dank hole. I went inside and grabbed one of her favorite blankets, and a toy, and buried them with her. I kissed her one last time, and then put the first clump of dirt in the hole. I felt the tears leak out, but I didn’t stop until the last bit of dirt covered her, and then I dropped to my knees and sobbed.
When I went inside more heart ache awaited me. I went into the animal room, and saw butchered bodies in their cages, somewhere on the floor. I felt myself retch, and then dry sob, as if no more tears could be in my body. I decided to start burying them after I changed, but as I went in my room I saw the bloodied corpse of snow lying on my bed, where no doubt he had mewed at his killers, and awaited them to pet him. I grabbed a t-shirt from my closet, and a pair of jeans. I went to the bathroom and changed, then walked out back and dug the necessary amount of holes. Then I went back inside, and used towels to carry out each of my pets separately, and gave them each their own personal burial. When I got to snow I grabbed his favorite blanket, and lay him gently in the ground beside Pumpkin.
When I finished I was exhausted mentally and physically, but knew my job wasn’t done. I went into the house, and started cleaning up the blood, and throughout the food that was still in the bowls, and emptied the water. I threw away my bed sheets, and put on new ones. When I finished the old animal room stood with gutted cages, and silent. I went to the living room and fell to the couch. I half expected Dylan to come, almost wished he would, but also hoping he wouldn’t.
I lay there for an hour, and he never came, I couldn’t decide if I was glad or disappointed by his absence, but then my mind and body gave out, and I passed into a dreamless sleep. When I awoke hours later I called Mr. Green, and told him Pumpkin had died of old age, and that I couldn’t make it to work. He apologized for my loss, and said that he understood. When I hung up I went to the fridge, and grabbed a slice of cheese, as I wasn’t really hungry. I sat again on the couch and nibbled at the square, and turned on the TV.
I stared blankly at the pictures that floated by, and when it went to commercial I didn’t change the channel like I had so often done as a child. I almost wished that I could just call Dylan, and that he would just show up. I really just didn’t want to be alive anymore, and who better to take your life then the angel of death? And as I sat there, thinking about what I had lost, and about the lack of anything left to live for I formulated my plan for revenge.
I stood and threw away the last of the cheese, and walked down the hall to my parents’ old room, which I had used to store things such as tools and the like. I rummaged around in some boxes and drawers, and finally grasped the yellow handle of the object I was searching for.
I slide up the box cutter’s still sharpened blade and smiled.
Tomorrow this ends one way or another.
~ ~ ~
I didn’t sleep that night, instead I sat and watched my back yard turn from dusk to night while sitting on the kitchen counter, and looking out the window. Around 1 AM I noticed tears leaking from my eyes once more, and I couldn’t comprehend how my body could still produce tears after all the pathetic sniveling of the last few days. When dawn started to show in the sky I moved away from the window. I went and took a shower, washed up, then sat on the cold bottom of the shower, and watched the rivulets of water trickle down. I sat there until the scorching water faded to a numbing cold that forced me out.
I went to my room and grabbed my undergarments, and a pair of dark blue jeans. Then I took a black T-shirt from my closet. I ran a brush through my still sopping wet hair, then went to my un-used make up box, and took out the black eye liner. I went to the mirror in the bathroom, and put the liner on thick and dark on my upper and lower eye lids. I don’t know why I felt it necessary to put on the liner, perhaps I thought it made me look more threatening, that coupled with my blood shot eyes I must have looked horrific. Maybe I felt that I should show those monsters what a real demon looked like.
I walked back into the kitchen, and got a glass of water, and choked down a banana, thought I wasn’t all that hungry, I guess some times your body will feed itself even if your brain doesn’t want it to. Next I grabbed my black flats from the bottom of the stairs where I had left them two days prior, and then I went out onto the porch. I took one last look at my back yard, the old tree where I had confronted Dylan, and where now my pets lay in the graves I dug them. I grabbed the box cutter from the railing where I had put it last night during one of my hypnotic walks around the house. I turned my back on the yard, and slid the blade into my pocket. I went inside and made sure everything was turned off, and in the dim light I could see the picture frames, smiling faces and furry creatures not recognizable in the dark.
Then I left.
I went down the stairs, and out the front door, leaving it unlocked. I walked down the driveway, and listened to the birds in the surrounding trees chatter as if care free, wishing that I could just ignore that sad truth of this world.
There’s always a predator in wait.
I walked to school, cars passed by, and some red, others black or white. I passed houses, thought I don’t know how many. The cracks in the pavement of the side walk seemed to be inviting crevices that I wished to crawl into. I saw the old willow tree as I entered the gates of the school grounds, and once again sat beneath the tree’s sheltering branches.
My hand went to the outside of my pocket, and I could feel the shape of the blade within, getting comfort from its very presence. The sun started to rise higher into the sky, but I noticed it little for the shade that the willow provided me. Then I thought of something that caused me to reach into my pocket, and retrieve the box cutter from within. I took it out, and pushed the blade up just enough. I turned to face the trunk, and gently, but deeply carved three words into the wood.
Angel of Death
