Amid the Recesses: A Short Story Collection of Fear Read Online Free

thin chest. Somewhere in the
abyss of tacky pink floral fabric, I was restrained and in shock. I
felt a small wooden spoon tapping my back as she held me like a
husband returning from war. When she pulled from the embrace, she
kept hold of my upper arms with her thick fingers.
    Judith, I assumed, had thin
lips with thick red lipstick. Her hair was fire truck red and
wound in spirals on her head. She wore a yellow flower apron over
her bulbous pink flower dress. The woman was a walking field
of floral species fighting for dominance over her turf. The
cacophony of color was distracting, even in a room full of
clowns.
    “ Well, aren’t you jus’
precious? I’m Judith Mortimer, but you jus’ call me Judy.” She made
her way back toward the kitchen. “I got you some sweet tea jus’
over here in the other room, now. You com’on over and get—“ Before
she could finish, she tripped over my wooden trunk and
stumbled.
    Judith observed the trunk
perplexedly, “My, my, what’ve we got here? This yours,
handsome? You should take this on upstairs while I make you
something to eat. Don’t want anyone tripping on this here and
breaking their neck. Us here, we’re having the finest soup. The
finest! Momma’s recipe, in fact.” Judith waved the wooden spoon
around as she stepped back into the kitchen. Her rambling faded
into incoherent warbles in the other room.
    A terrible stench filled
the house from what I imagined was a witch’s cauldron in the
kitchen. I started thinking of ways to get out of eating. The smell
was distinctly animal and unclean. I wanted to see into the pot, to
see if eyeballs or goat testicles floated and bobbed in the fluid.
I peered into the kitchen, only to see Judith bobbing to and fro—a
windy field of flowers that all smelled like cow shit.
    I heard an engine start
outside. I scrambled toward the window, still under the innocent
observation of the young boy.
    “ Don’t you have cartoons or
something to watch?” I asked the boy as I pulled the floral
curtains to the side to look for the source of the engine growl.
Flowers. Clowns. Flowers. Clowns.
    Mortimer was outside of a
running, dented old truck. He tossed a small toolbox into the bed
of the pickup and wobbled back toward the driver’s seat. I noticed
he had to jump to get into the front seat of the vehicle. What a pitiful man , I
thought.
    Judith was singing in the
kitchen.
    “ Are you washed in the blood? Are you washed in the blood of
the lamb? ” She sang. A tapping lanyard of
an unbalanced ceiling fan in the living room played a beat behind
the tune. “ Are your garments spotless, are
they white as snow? Are you washed in the blood of the
lamb? ”
    I examined my hands. I
observed the smeared red mess on them. Afraid of a little blood , he said. I
looked at my clean white shirt. I grit my teeth and closed the
curtain as Mortimer started down the road. I lifted my trunk from
the ground and stumbled around the small child, the coffee table,
and the couches until I stood at the bottom of the stairs. I
shifted my body and pressed the trunk between me and the wall for
support while I surveyed the stairs. Behind me, in step like a
soldier in training, the little boy followed, observing the stairs
as well.
    “ Any ideas?” I
asked.
    The boy turned from the
stairs to look at me, his whole head turning with each glance. The
little boy’s lips smacked and his tongue wagged around his mouth to
wipe away the food on his face.
    “ Didn’t think
so.”
    I pulled the trunk from the
wall and stepped up the first step. I went on to the next, one foot
in front of another.
    “ So this is how I die.” I
muttered, half-muted as the box pressed against my
cheek.
    The boy took each step
behind me. I was aware that if I fell the boy wouldn’t have a
chance. It wouldn’t be the best way to make new friends. Thanks for fixing my car. I killed your
kid .
    There were more clowns upstairs on
shelves and walls.
    “ It’s a fucking circus