The Harvest by Diego Rauda

Author:Diego Rauda [Rauda, Diego]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781960018083
Publisher: Running Wild Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Daniel felt his heart flutter into his neck. The belt dug itself in, and the buckle clawed him as he leaned forward in his bedroom.

His eyeballs had rotated inwards a fair bit, so the blurry shapes he could make out amidst the shadowy bedroom were turned into ghouls.

Serendipity. Perhaps that's what it felt like, bumping against his sternum.

CHAPTER TWENTY

If he just endured the blossoming congestion in his temples and resisted the urge to heed his body’s silent screams as the blood pooled around his brain, he would grasp ultimate freedom.

A few minutes of almost unbearable disarray and distortion were all that separated him from unconsciousness.

Daniel felt a burning flow of heat accumulate inside his face. His gums tingled, and his eyeballs felt loose against their sockets.

Just a moment now... Daniel, just a moment now, and all will be made well, all will be corrected, and you will not need to pick up the pieces because you won’t be at all.

He heard a grunting lament coming from outside his room. It started almost like a moan of pleasure but quickly devolved into a wail. Daniel tried to stand up, but the noose gripped him tighter.

He took his hands to his neck and pulled the belt to give himself a moment of respite before beginning the effort of undoing the knot on the doorknob. The buckle was not opening, since he had managed to stretch the synthetic threads before sealing himself in it. He would have to relax the material first.

He breathed, he wheezed. His knees hurt while he turned around on them and fiddled with the mess at the knob.

The scream came back. Daniel thought he distinguished a few disjointed words, a plea for help.

He released the end of the belt and stood up. He slid the buckle to the front of his neck and managed to open it.

The blood that pooled in his face was flushed away as he exhaled the congested air in his lungs.

He glanced around the room. The mirror let him know of his new, temporary freckles, and of the vessels that had burst in his eyes.

“Let me go!” he heard the voice say.

Daniel scrubbed his temples.

He opened the door and went into the hallway. He couldn’t quite remember in which room his father was sleeping now.

“No!”

First on the left.

He knocked hard.

“Dad.”

“Get away from me!”

“Dad! Hey... Dad...”

Silence. Sheets rustling.

“Huh?”

He heard the bed creaking and his dad's soft footsteps over the carpet. His droopy eyes, filled to the brim with an aggressive redness, emerged through a slit.

“Yeah?”

“Nothing, you were just having a nightmare.”

Joaquín rubbed his face.

“Yeah, sorry if I woke you up. It’s cold. Close the window.”

Daniel looked at him straight on.

“You were saying things. You scared me.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine. Go to sleep... Daniel.” His father ogled his arm and cleared his throat. “You’ve been cutting yourself again.”

Daniel shook his head.

“Good night.”

Joaquin's voice stopped being the raspy whisper of a man that just woke up.

“No good night to you. Come here.”

A familiar heat accumulated in Daniel's chest. He made his way to his own room as if he had heard nothing.

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