Morpheus Tales: The Best Weird Fiction Volume 4 Ebook by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: fictionhorrordark fictiondark fantasydark scifidark science fictionweird fictionmorpheus talesmagazineanthology
Publisher: Morpheus Tales Publishing
Published: 2014-08-09T00:00:00+00:00

Wednesday: Remembrance

I was a messy baby, my mother always told me.

“If the other mothers’ babies used five diapers a day,” she would whine as she picked up my belongings when I got older. “You used 10. What a mess you were. And you never grew out of it.”

But, I did.

I’ve gotten neater. If only she were alive to appreciate this fact.

I know I’ve gotten neater.

Because I’ve counted.

I keep track of everything I consume.

It’s a lovely word, isn’t it? Consume?

Make the “u” long in the second syllable, and the word sounds elegant.

For example, since my adolescence I’ve used only 24 pairs of jeans, 43 shirts, 67 pairs of underwear, 105 pairs of socks, 22 pairs of shoes.

Since I’m almost 24 now, I think that these numbers are admirable.

I keep everything washed and folded in my dresser, my shoes neatly arranged, socks balled and in their own drawer.

Order is important, wouldn’t you agree?

In an orderly system, everything lasts longer.

Things aren’t wasted.

You don’t have to consume as much.

You understand.

I think I like you. You appreciate my sensibility in this, unlike...

Unlike the grey ones... th

Shit!

Four thousand, two hundred and sixteen.

I had to get a new pencil. They always seem to wear out so fast.

Mother always told me that I bore down too hard.

Everything, it seems, is destined to be difficult for me.

Nineteen thousand, four hundred and seventy two.

Tissues, that is.

I have a lot of sinus problems, and I tend to sweat a lot.

Tissues come in handy for a lot of things, like cleaning up unexpected messes.

Four hundred and sixteen.

That’s how many boxes of tissues are in the spare bedroom.

I’m ready.

There have only been eight women, you know.

Only eight during my whole life.

That’s not bad, I think.

Plenty of men use more than I.

I try not to use more than one a month.

I know. I haven’t been at it long.

But what I lack in experience, I make up for in enthusiasm.

I have collected six bras, seven pairs of panties, two skirts, a sweater, five blouses, four pairs of jeans, two pairs of shorts, two t-shirts, five pairs of tennis shoes, three pairs of dress shoes, four pairs of nylons, an odd number of socks, 14 rings, 8 purses, 19 earrings.

Inside the purses were 17 tubes of lipstick, nine compacts, six wallets, three eyelash curlers, a collapsible umbrella, four address books, 132 photos (102 colour, 30 in black and white), seven sets of keys, $657.23, 34 credit cards, nine packages of chewing gum, 7 packages of condoms.

I have kept all this, kept it in separate containers in a locked room, each marked with the girl’s number: 1 through 8.

Everything is orderly. Everything is neat.

It should last a lifetime.

I can unlock the door, take down a box and go through the items in it anytime.

And remember.

How Girl 3 was so hard to follow.

The way Girl 6 looked underneath her clothes.

Where the greater portions of Girl 5’s body was left.

The way they all looked when I took out my knife.

Through it all, though, just one knife.

I have not used it up yet or broken it, oh, no.

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