It smells of wet skin and decayed cloth, it looks to have been decaying for many… many… years. I could tell from the stench it produces, the soggy flesh and exposed bones, a heap of soggy flesh and exposed bones… that was what it was. A heap of soggy flesh and exposed bones all crowded into a hole I have never seen before. My first thoughts were: “Who could’ve done this?” I paused for a bit “My family? Friends? Neighbors?” … “no.” “that can’t be” “they’re right here.” I live alone in the middle of nowhere, where no one is, where no one’s alive, except me… the only residence of this wasteland. Only after I wondered and thought for a bit have I noticed something…odd… There was a body of a boy… just about ten with a gigantic, gruesome, hole placed on his head. I assumed it was probably from some gunshots as Germany’s military forces were always improving on their weapons but… something... something felt… weird about that hole. It was as if it had emotion. I retract in slight shock and as an instinct. “I better get off to work or he’ll get in trouble” I tell myself. I pick my shovel up from the ground to prepare my yearly work. With it, I poke one of the bodies… It’s skin suddenly slides off to reveal some bones. I back in fear and shock… “It wont take too long” I say in an attempt to reassure myself. “God forgive me”
I stroll back to my long abandoned cottage, dirty… both physically and mentally. Blood stains my clothes… blood stains my reputation. I open the door, it creaks open , my hand , fatigued from burying the body, pushes a familiar door. It opens ,and yet, a familiar scent reaches my nose, mother is cooking pudding, A familiar sound reaches my ears, father is rocking at his chair. A familiar touch reaches my feet… I’m home. No… the only home this is, is the home of my guilt, my suffering, my pain. The pudding is gonna get over-cooked, I must tend to it before it turns bland. A tear runs down my face, “I am in denial” I tell myself “they’re all dead.”
I eat my pudding I made, slowly, one spoon at a time remembering. Remembering that a scientist has caused all this. All these deaths. It was his fault, right? I mean he, my love, Couldn’t be a murderer, he wasn’t the one who locked the scientist in the room right? He wasn’t the one who burned all those people. Those people,they were probably guilty. Right? My train of thoughts was interrupted by a faint sound “we’re okay.” I must be hallucinating again. Maybe I should go to bed.
I placed my bowl in the bedroom then I walked to my bedroom to sleep. I heard footsteps behind me so in instinct I look behind me. Father! “Father! I thought you were dea-“ My sentence was interrupted by him producing a sound identical to screaming, then him lighting up on fire. I close my eyes as to not get burnt. I open them again to see nothing… oh… It’s getting worse.
I slept uneasy that night, I kept on remembering those bodies, I must love him that much to hide the bodies. Nevertheless I remember the wet skin, the decayed cloth, those eyeless sockets. After hours of insomnia, I eventually slept, but not peacefully.
I wake up and I walk to the exit to reveal marigold planted right at the place where I buried the bodies. But the marigold wasn’t just any normal one. It had eyes in the place of it’s pollen and hands as thin as parchment for leaves. Those eyes… they reminded me of my family, friends and neighbors. After a while, they noticed me, those eyes evolved quickly into the melting faces of my family, friends and neighbors.
They produce the same sound identical to screaming, at me, they blame me, they hate me, Their stems extended to the place I stood and , melted, Their faces melted into the ground to burn their way to a big hole on the ground. Their leaves then grabbed me and then forced me into the hole they burnt. I fall, I was incapable of doing anything, I deserve it. I fall… down… down I go. Is this death? Am I dead?
I jolt awake, covered in my own sweat, breathing heavily, clenching the covers of the bed. “It was just a dream” I say in relieve.
I walk to the exit only to reveal a bed of marigold, I hesitate for a bit, no, it was just a dream…right?
I walk to the bed of marigold and rested on the flowers to think. It makes a crunching sound as I put my weight on it. Then I began to dream. I am a good woman. I work for my family… and for my husband. We were a family of 4 which consisted of me, my father, my mother, and my cousin. We were all jews however and they would kill any jew they found… as it was an ultimate sin. I hid under the floorboards as I heard the gunshots… 3 … then 2 … then 1. They dragged the bodies into a pile. When I creaked up from it when they were gone… I looked through the window… and that was when I met him. I still remember his mustache to this day. It was what defined him from everyone else.
I am a good woman.
I want to escape this hell, I want to escape this limbo. I’ve already seen someone try to do that, I don’t want to commit the same mistake.
I know that if I escape this limbo… something horrible will get me.
I hear footsteps…oh… I must go back inside. He is here, I go inside to see that my house has transformed into a living hell. Everything was made out of flesh… blood… and bone. What stood in the bone-made pot was no longer pudding but blood with bone shavings as oats. What will he think of this? Will he be happy? Ohh… there’s no time. I swiftly prepare the bowls for him and I to eat with.
As I finish, he knocks on my door, “Are you there? Eleaneaor?” “Yes… I’m coming.” I open it to let him in. He comes inside and sits on my chair… He small talks as he eats the “pudding.” He actually ate . He talks about how stressful it is in town… But I couldn’t answer back because I was shocked, horrified, and relieved that he actually ate… he actually drank. He liked it. Then suddenly in the middle of our “conversation” I say “I know what you did.” He goes silent… “What are you talking about?” he smiles with a hint of nervousness. “I know about the bodies… It’s okay. I took care of it” He pushes his chair and stands up ready to leave. He didn’t stay to kiss my throat this time. He leaves and as he does I have a feeling this will be the last time I see him. He disappears into the forest and as he does… another entity does too. It seemed to have hole for a face… It seemed to be melting… I seemed to be in a liquid state. After he and the entity does… I hear screams of agony and pain. Each time I think of him now… It will be his body….His body who I have planted marigold on.
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