The fat man approached with a package wrapped in a blanket under his arm. Mick took one more drag, dropped his cigarette, and ground the butt into the pavement with the heel of his shoe. He moved his head slightly, just a light nod, and the fat man joined him at the edge of the shadows.
“You’re him? Mr. Jenkins?” The fat man patted his forehead with a stained handkerchief.
Mick nodded. “Is it,” he looked at the parcel, “healthy.”
“Yes. A clean specimen… from a car accident this morning. Tragic really, but fortunate for you, eh?” The fat man chuckled before catching himself and returning to a more serious tone. “For a family member?”
“Someone close, yes.” Mick pushed one hand into his jacket and pulled it out with a stack of bills. “Enough.”
The fat man’s eyes swelled. “Yes.” He took the package in both hands. “Don’t you want to check, make sure I’m not scamming you?”
Mick stepped closer. “You wouldn’t do that.” His eyes, rimmed in red as dark as blood in the shadowed alley, narrowed. “Think of the consequences.” He took the parcel.
The fat man smiled — a nervous, trembling smile, and snatched the money from Mick’s hand. “Thanks…if — ” He caught himself before saying more, turned quickly, and waddled back the way he came, head wavering from side to side.
Mick slipped the thin blanket aside and drummed his fingers on the white Styrofoam beneath. “God, another car wreck…”
***
Mick Jenkins entered his bungalow through the back door, the door facing the alley. The kitchen light flickered as he flipped the switch. When the light came to life, Mick sloughed off his hard demeanor and slumped his shoulders with a sigh. He tossed his keys on the counter, nearly toppling a crooked tower of unread mail, and dropped the small cooler next to the sink. Cupping his hands under the faucet, he ran some cold water and splashed his face. The house carried a faint odor of decay — something rotten lurking in the silence.
Next to the sink, posted on a cabinet door, a series of newspaper clippings caught Mick’s eyes. Finding the oldest article, he touched the yellowing paper with one damp finger, tracing the headline. “Goddamn car wrecks,” he muttered.
Taking up the Styrofoam box, he started down the stairs to the cellar. The old wood groaned and protested, and the temperature dropped like Mick had stepped into a walk-in cooler. Unlike the rest of the house, the cellar was clean and devoid of anything except an old upright freezer and a stainless steel work table — the latter purchased from a restaurant second-hand when they remodeled their kitchen. He moved toward the freezer.
The door opened with a sucking pop, spilling tendrils of frosty air onto the floor. Mick set the cooler on the ground and flipped off the lid. He lifted out a plastic bag — a human liver floating in a thin layer of dark, syrupy blood, and held it in both hands. It felt cold and quite heavy. Healthy. He pushed the liver into the freezer and stashed his new purchase on the bottom shelf next to other plastic-wrapped parts — a slender upper arm and two delicate hands. He clicked the door shut and turned to leave.
Halfway up the stairs, Mick stopped and tilted his head as though listening to something. Slowly, he descended the stairs, returning to the freezer. He hesitated before pulling the door open again. This time, his eyes met hers — her severed head resting on the top wire shelf with bluish, nearly translucent skin and eyes frozen open in a look of surprise. He reached into the freezer and touched her stiff lips with a trembling finger.
“Almost have everything I need, babe.” He fidgeted with his wedding ring. “Then I’ll make things right.”
Aaron Polson is a high school English teacher and freelance writer. He currently resides in Lawrence, Kansas with his wife, two sons, and a tattooed rabbit. His short fiction has appeared in various places, including Reflection’s Edge, GlassFire Magazine, Big Pulp, Johnny America, and Permuted Press’s Monstrous anthology. You can visit him on the web at www.aaronpolson.com.
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22 Responses to “TO MAKE THINGS RIGHT • by Aaron Polson”
Comments
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May 15th, 2009 at 2:53 am
Nice and creepy. I like the way the possibilities are left open until the end. The imagery in the final paragraph was very effective.
May 15th, 2009 at 3:45 am
Fantastic imagery all the way through, and a good doze of creepy. Good work, Aaron.
May 15th, 2009 at 4:59 am
What a spooky one!
I found the ‘fat man’ a bit of a stereotype, though.
May 15th, 2009 at 5:27 am
Okay story for toddlers for whom “FRANKENSTEIN” is too long a story for their concentration. “The fat man” is an interesting original character, teaching little children that even a man “at the edge of the shadows,” who wipes the area to the fore of his tendrils, the forehead, with a stained handkerchief, ought to be trusted.
Good flow.
May 15th, 2009 at 5:36 am
Interesting, and you still stick with your infatuation of Frakenstein.
May 15th, 2009 at 6:32 am
Very nicely done. I’m not convinced that the first section is needed at all, however. With only a few tweaks, the second section could stand alone.
May 15th, 2009 at 6:56 am
Splendid, Aaron! The tension early in the second section really brings it together for the ending.
May 15th, 2009 at 7:54 am
Now I am going to think twice about the used fridges I see on auction.
May 15th, 2009 at 8:44 am
An excellently creepy story, Aaron. I agree with what Bob said, though, that the second half could almost stand alone as a story. That was where it started to get really dark and more engaging for me.
May 15th, 2009 at 9:26 am
Wow… creeptastic!
May 15th, 2009 at 9:56 am
Ah, love.
May 15th, 2009 at 1:15 pm
I guessed the ending but it was really well written. Bob has a point about the first half being out-weighed by the second.
May 16th, 2009 at 5:11 am
Comparisons between works highlights outstanding excellence among them. After reading some other stories I came back to read this again. The details in the kitchen scene and later are superbly written, the images rounding the scene to actuality. Worth reading if only to admire the magic of that. The word “tendrils” jars, though; too detachedly abstract.
May 16th, 2009 at 7:40 am
Okay, Aaron, I like your stories, they’re generally well-crafted and the punch lines are tight. But what is it about basements?! Have you tried attics? Powder rooms or guest bedrooms?
What was interesting about Alfred Hitchcock’s work was turning the bland and banal into fear and horror (viz. “North by Northwest” or “Marnie”)? Worth giving it a try?
May 16th, 2009 at 9:21 am
Ooh, that was lovely and creepy. I liked the build up of suspense as we were trying to figure out what was in the package and the really grat descriptive writing. I’d love the possibilites for a sequel, but on the other hand it’s great the way it is. Five stars.
May 17th, 2009 at 11:59 am
Walt – Although your comment was addressed to Aaron, I would like to say that basements, attics, and powder rooms (medicines), possibly have all sorts of secrets, but everyone involved knows about what goes on in any bedroom.
I made a note to look up Hitchcock’s NbyN and M. Thanks for the suggested reading.
May 17th, 2009 at 9:09 pm
Excellent imagery, as has been said many times before me. The tension in the beginning just kept ratcheting up in the second half. Satisfying creepy goodness.
May 18th, 2009 at 4:35 am
Roberta, not to get off the thread, but a friend just published a collection of horror/weirdness set in Disney World. How apt an alternative reality is that?!
May 18th, 2009 at 6:35 am
Walt – I’ve never been to Disney World or Disneyland, but just guessing, it’s probably a horror without being a setting for stories, and probably even worse horrors could be developed using it for story background. Good luck to your friend. I briefly followed up your Hitchcock suggestions, thinking that Hitchcock was the writer, but I learned through the internet he was the director/producer only and the works not available for download. Regards.
June 3rd, 2009 at 10:25 pm
Romantic : )
June 18th, 2009 at 12:02 am
I really love this. You just love your frankenstein.
July 17th, 2009 at 3:23 pm
I love it!