Orphans by Roy C. Booth

Author:Roy C. Booth [Roy C. Booth, Axel Kohagen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror
Publisher: Dark Fantasy Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Monday, November 8th. Woland House.

Shane Woland.

Shane did not need to be present to know his great revenge had succeeded. He'd heard the screams, and he seen the looks of accusation from school officials. He knew they would come to talk to him in earnest tomorrow, when they had something other than their initial suspicions to question him about. He was ready for that, too. He knew he did not have any reason to open his mouth, and he also knew they would not be able to do anything more than glare at him.

He lit a series of candles and formed them into a circle on his hard-wood floor. The floor itself looked awful, never meant to be exposed, but he had taken a carpet knife to it one Tuesday night and ripped up the beige carpeting. His father had noticed it two days later, and he'd shaken his head and laughed like he was glad his son was dead to him. Now, Shane sat cross-legged between the lit candles and closed his eyes. He felt small flickers of warmth from the tiny flames, pretending they were the first glorious kisses of punishing hellfire.

He imagined his revenge unfolding, smiling all the while. The cocky wrestler, the one who'd masterminded the trashing of Shane’s locker, had a habit of leaving his final period study hall twenty minutes early to get ready for practice. Somehow, this breach of the rules was tacitly tolerated by everyone in the school. The wrestler walked down the hallways with his dopey knuckles dragging, looking in the lockers of fat kids for snack food to steal if he was not too worried at the time about cutting weight. He would peek into windows to leer and grin at attractive underclass girls and they would smile back at him. Eventually, he would make it into the locker room.

Today, he must have opened his locker to get out tape to start working on an ankle that had been bothering him for a few weeks. When he'd opened the locker, he would've found all of his belongings piled under a triangular pile of maggots, grave dirt, and shit. Two taxidermist’s eyes would create the image that this was a goat’s head. Smeared around the head, describing a circle around it, was a thin line drawn in blood.

Shane enjoyed imagining what had happened next. He suspected the jock swore and kicked something, knowing who had done this to him. He would consider scraping all of the dirt and shit—he would be able to smell it was shit—out with his hands, but he would not be able to bring himself to touch it. For all of his manhandling of ninth-grade cheerleaders, he still went to church enough to be scared of what Shane represented. He would not be able to touch the goat and the circle.

Shane wished he could have been around to watch the jock dash to the office to ask the principal to look inside his locker. He would bet the moron stomped harder the more his scared face betrayed the fear inside of him.

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