Horror Stories: A Macabre Collection by Steve Wands

Author:Steve Wands [Wands, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Horror, Short Stories, +IPAD, +UNCHECKED
Publisher: Steve Wands
Published: 2011-07-08T22:29:25+00:00

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Hell Comes for the Hurried

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I’m supposed to be thankful today. Thankful for the wonderful bounty before me, thankful for the air that stings my lungs with its bitter, sinister cold, and thankful for all that I have. Well, all I have is regret and a heart that refuses to give up the ghost, a belly nowhere near full of charred rabbit meat and cold moonshine. I have the vague memory of a world that was chewed to the marrow. I have the memory of my family. And, I have a picture of them, which I guess I’m thankful for. It’s the only picture I have left of my wife and our son—though it’s so tattered I can barely make out their faces anymore. It’s as if they are ghosts caught on film. But am I thankful? –No. Not till I’m dead. Sure, I could’ve easily checked myself out countless times in the years that’ve passed. No, I’m not a religious person, though I do believe in God, and I most certainly believe in hell. I believe my family is waiting for me. Waiting where all the good-hearted dead go, were I hope I can go, and I don’t think suicide will get me there.

So I sit here among these people I’ve traveled with, their names don’t matter to me, and to be honest, neither do they. We still look out for each other though. It’s just that I’ve grown cold, beyond numb—I barely even speak nowadays. There is nothing to say, and small talk is bullshit. I’d rather keep my thoughts to my self. Some of the folks I travel with like to tell stories or talk about the glory days of a world half-remembered. I like to find the dead things and make them deader. I pretend that every one of them is the one that took my family away. It’s the only time I feel anything other than nothing and regret. And once I finish off this moonshine I’ll be ready to do just that.

The last swig bit me like a viper and hissed all the way down. I got to my feet, grabbed my club and headed away from the fire and out from underneath the bridge. I admired the sight once I got to the top. It was early evening and the sun was setting behind the river. The destruction was breathtaking. It was a bombed out skeleton of a city—a modern day dinosaur with its broken bones reaching for the sky. I stood across the river taking it all in. We were heading there tomorrow, on the big old road to nowhere through the city and beyond. We’d probably set up camp in the ruin one of the buildings—a library would be nice, or a museum. I could bury myself in a book, or make a display for the human race at the museum. Either way would be a fine way to kill time before time kills me.

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