On the Edge of Devils Abode – Short Story


2015-08-31-bw-beacham
Picture by Barbara W. Beacham

Mondays Finish the Story is a flash fiction challenge by Barbara W. Beacham. The story requires 100-150 words (excluding the first sentence which Barbara writes). She also provides the picture. The challenge runs from Monday to Sunday. Last week, I was away in PNG and missed this one but the picture inspired me so I went ahead and wrote my story. My son Nathan wanted to write a story for this challenge as well so I hope you like what we did.

On the Edge of Devils Abode by JK.Leahy©

“The cemetery spread along the area known as Devils Abode.”

On the edge, Maine, Tony and Boxer stopped. It rained. Cuffed in a hessian bag, Benny struggled. In turns, they kicked him into a bloody heap. The bag came off.

“Leave him,” Tony said. “The animals will get him”.

“Finish him off – Frank’s orders,” Maine growled and kicked Benny in the crotch.

Benny curled, feeling warm between his legs where his urine could not wait.

“Someone’s coming. Run!” – Boxer yelled and drove away.

A car stopped. Footsteps approached.

“I told those idiots to bury the fucker. He’s alive? Pick him up”. It was Frank.

Four hands shoved under Benny’s arms. They drove to the cemetery and stopped.

“Throw him in there,” Frank ordered. Benny hit the fresh grave landing – hard. He waited for the trigger. Instead, soft, dry soil slapped his wet face. Frank was burying him alive, just like he buried his wife, Benny’s lover of two years.

My son Nathan Harris was inspired to write his own 150 words that takes place after my story. This was Nathan’s own writing and I have not changed a word. 

“The cemetery spread along the area known as Devils Abode.”

“Seemed a fitting place as any to leave that shit Benny” Frank smirked as he opened his door, escaping the storm. He had just enough time to notice a set of muddy footprints before the crack of a gunshot hushed the rain, and searing pain through his leg dropped him to one knee. As Frank cursed on the floor, the slender form of a dead man dissolved into view; his pinstripe suit was caked with mud.

“Benny?” Frank gurgled, “How the bloody hell did you – ”
“Rookie…” Benny coughed, lungs choking on earth, and emptied his last 5 shots into Frank’s gut.
Frank clutched himself, frozen in pain and fear. As the last moments of his life drained away, Benny strode to the door and glanced back.

“When you try bury someone, you bury them deep…” he began softly, “because a shallow grave won’t hold a vengeful man down.”

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