Posts Tagged ‘Hall’

What Came Over Her (Short Story Excerpt)

September 2, 2015

author-1

1.

June 3rd, 2016.

Stark City, Oregon.

11:57 p.m.

Smiling, Wendy Marie Hunicutt stepped onto the pentagram. “Now it begins,” she whispered, sinking to her knees.

“Payback’s a bitch, Kara!”

The pale, flabby girl had drawn a crude circle on the floor in chalk. Within this circle, she’d drawn a five-pointed star. At each point of the star, she’d placed a small black candle. Five tiny flames now lit the empty room; flickering, twisting the darkness around Wendy’s naked body. The azure ring on her left hand glimmered in the soft light. The initials carved into the gold band read:

K.L.V.

“You’ve fucked with me for the last time!”

Kneeling in the star’s central pentagon, Wendy closed her eyes. Blood spurted from her wrists, splattering against her legs, pooling around her knees. The razor she’d used to slit her veins lay outside the circle, next to an open tome of ancient writing. Beneath the razor lay a portrait of Kara Vance. Blonde, dimpled, and buxom. The All-American High School Cheerleader Goddess. Her blue eyes had been slashed by the razor. Black candle wax hid her perfect smile.

“And now I’m free…”

Ignoring the hot sting in her forearms, Wendy concentrated, forming a vivid mental portrait of Kara. Her favorite portrait:

Kara, resplendent in her cheerleader uniform, falling from a great height. Hurtling into darkness.

Crying.

Shrieking.

Thrashing.

All the way to her death.

I’m gonna make you suffer worse than I ever have!

Still, Wendy’s blood spurted. Her jaw quivered. Gooseflesh rose on her arms and legs. Beginning to feel faint, she bit down hard, took a deep breath, and began her ominous chant:

Possideo

The memory of that fateful first encounter resurfaced. Walking into the Robert Sloan High School cafeteria for the first time. Seeing Kara Vance, daughter of Stark City Councilman, Kirk Vance, in the flesh. Everyone knew Kara. Everyone wanted to be her friend. There’d been an empty spot at Kara’s table, and Wendy had committed the sin of sitting down, and the mortal sin of speaking to her.

“Why are you talking to me?” Kara had asked, much to the delight of her squealing sophomore posse. “You’re freshman trash. Even worse, you’re Meyer trash. We live in Hinckley, honey. Our parents can buy and sell your parents…”

Then came the laughter. Brutal. Haunting. Unrelenting.

“Deleo

Nude, bleeding, bathed in candlelight, Wendy remembered the utter confusion, anger, and shame as complete strangers ridiculed her. People she hadn’t harmed…people she didn’t even know.

“Supero…

And from there, everything escalated.

“Possideo…”

Dirty notes on her locker. Insulting texts to her phone. Obscene messages on her Facebook page. The unfortunate nickname: Windy Huni-cunt.

“Deleo…”

Condescending looks in the halls. Snide remarks in class. Prank phone calls in the middle of the night.

“Supero…”

Threats. Shoves. Bubblegum in her hair. Key marks on her mother’s car the first and last time Wendy drove it to school.

“Possideo…

The time three friends of Kara’s friends—since Kara’s posse would never sully their own hands—jumped Wendy in the bathroom, resulting in a black eye, bruised ribs, and a sprained ankle.

“Deleo…

And the rumors. The filthy, vicious rumors. The least cruel being that Wendy had blown several of her male teachers for passing grades. The worst being that she’d molested a boy she’d once babysat.

“Supero…

Dying, Wendy recalled how at first her parents hadn’t believed her. How they’d told her that everyone deals with bullying at some point, and to tough it out. But when the abuse became undeniable, they’d gotten involved. Or tried to, at least. The teachers, the principal, the entire school system; no one could help.

Maybe they just didn’t want to.

“Possideo

Changing their landline had gotten their house egged. Getting a new phone increased the online harassment. Shutting down her Facebook caused a bag of dog shit to appear in her locker. Kara and her friends just created a fake Windy Huni-cunt profile, anyway. And there they posted the vilest messages and pictures the real Wendy had ever seen.

“Deleo

For three years, Wendy has endured this torment. Three long, miserable years.

“Supero

With no end of suffering in sight.

“Possideo

Three times she’d applied for a school transfer, and three times she’d been refused due to overcrowding.

“Deleo

And lest she take comfort in the fact that her last year at Robert Sloan would be Kara-free, Wendy received an anonymous typewritten note in her backpack:

Dear Ms. Huni-cunt,

Don’t think for a second that just because someone graduates their influence can’t be felt.

Good luck in your senior year.

Sincerely,

A Friend

“Supero

Thus, hopeless, harrowed, and untouched by any boy she’d ever liked, Wendy Hunicutt came to this abandoned boathouse overlooking Stark Reservoir, armed with a book, a razor, and a raging thirst for vengeance.

“Possideo…deleo…supero…

And there, at last, Wendy found peace…

Read “What Came Over Her” compliments of The Abyss E-zine @ http://theabyssmag.blogspot.com/2018/07/what-came-over-her-by-jesse-lynn-rucilez.html


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Thank you for reading!

JLR

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In Spite Of Her Will (Short Story Excerpt)

January 13, 2015

January 11th, 2016.
Stark City, Oregon.
8:49 a.m.

Nurse Vanna Meadows didn’t want to go into the room at the end of the hall, but she had no choice. She’d avoided it as long as she could, and now her job demanded it. Demanded that she complete her patient rounds. And her conscience demanded that she do everything in her power to help that poor old man.

Goddamnit…why didn’t he ask the doctor for help? Why did he have to ask me? I’m just a nurse…a lowly goddamn nurse who doesn’t want any part of this!

With a mournful sigh, Vanna left the nurses’ station and started down the hall. Toward the room. Toward the emaciated old man whom Vanna wished she’d never met.

Toward the biggest, momentous decision of her young life.

Even now, Nurse Meadows didn’t know what she’d do once she stepped inside. She knew she’d see her patient lying there, hooked up to the heart monitor and inching ever toward the end of his long life. Perhaps beseeching her again with his kind yet weary gaze. Perhaps reaching out to her in his innocent yet cruel way; gnarled hand extended like a beggar seeking alms. Except in this case, alms meant quite a bit more than money, or even food. It meant the ultimate sacrifice.

Maybe he’ll be sleeping this time, Vanna thought, scrubs rustling, shoes squeaking against the tile floor as she meandered along. Maybe I can put it off for awhile…

Though twenty-three–young by adult standards–and just seven months into her job, Nurse Meadows had never given her career choice a second thought. She’d gone through nursing school with an ease which had earned her the jealousy of her peers, and had set her sights on a position at Stark City’s most prominent hospital: Stark County Medical Center. Once hired at SCMC, she’d been placed on the sixth floor telemetry unit, and in the previous seven months she’d seen it all. Heart attack victims, stroke victims, crash victims, and every other form of rotten luck made manifest in the physical world. And none of it had bothered her. Not the blood, the sobbing of family members, or the endless echoes of grief in the sterile halls. Vanna prided herself on being just as, if not more, professional than the nurses twice her age.

But all of that changed the day they wheeled Hubert Cranleigh up to her floor and left the ancient man in her charge. That had been a week ago. Prior to this transfer, Hubert had languished in the intensive care unit following a massive heart attack. At age ninety-one, his recovery had been less than ideal. But the doctor and ICU nurses had done their jobs and gotten him stabilized. Hubert could open his eyes and talk for brief periods of time; even making sense every once in awhile. So things had been looking up for everyone involved–

Then tragedy struck.

One night, Hubert’s eighty-nine year old wife, Lois, had slipped and fallen in the rest home and broken much more than her hip. She’d been rushed to Stark County Medical just as Hubert had, but even emergency surgery hadn’t been able to save her. And the single worst moment of Vanna’s life had been when she’d stood by as the doctor informed Hubert that his wife had died. That, because of Hubert’s delicate condition, he couldn’t be moved–even by wheelchair–to Lois’s room. Which meant that poor old Hubert had already seen his beloved wife for the last time.

No book, no song, no poem could ever describe the utter heartbreak Vanna saw in Hubert’s eyes that ruinous day. Hubert didn’t just cry, he bled pure sorrow from every pore of his withered flesh. His bones rattled with every breath. His heart monitor jounced in time to the childlike blubbering which still rang in Nurse Meadows’ ears.

Damnit! Vanna thought, slowing her pace even more. Halfway down the hall now, the syringe in her pocket bounced against her leg. A heavy reminder of the heavy decision she’d almost made.

I don’t know if I can do this, Mr. Cranleigh. I really, really don’t…


If you enjoyed this excerpt, please subscribe, like, and share.

“In Spite of Her Will” was featured in The Borfski Press, Issue #2.

Buy The Borfski Press Issue #2 in both print and digital format here:

https://theborfskipress.com/2017/06/19/issue-ii-out-now/

Thank you for reading!

JLR


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