At Present (A Short Story)
Monday, 21. July 2008, 19:05:02
Early evening was the time Norm felt most refreshed. After a bit of a sleep, and when the air had cooled somewhat, he felt more awake and alert than at any other time of the day.
Which wasn’t saying much, of course, at his age.
Still, whenever he saw Carol, he felt years younger. His love for her lifted his heart and bolstered his resolve to outlive her – by sheer force of will, if necessary – regardless of the aches, pains and infirmity that came with age. Damned if he’d go first and make her suffer through such a loss.
Of course, he couldn’t imagine what it would be like for him once Carol went, but he’d rather suffer the pain of outliving her, than leave her to deal with the pain his death would bring.
No doubt she harboured the same sort of unspoken resolution.
Of course, the ideal thing, he knew, would be if they went together, peacefully in their sleep. But that wasn’t likely to happen, and that was just the way of things.
It wasn’t anything to be feared, of course; death was a natural part of life. And they both had a firm belief in the afterlife and knew they’d see each other again in the next world. It was just that they’d be devastated until they met again, after so many living years where they were never apart.
He mentally shook his head. Thoughts like that had been coming more and more, and it was a rare day when the subject didn’t occur to him at least once.
Carol heard him shuffling. The tread on the slippers he got for his eighty-seventh last month was thick enough to rasp the carpet as he moved up the hall, easily heard in the quiet of their house.
Turning from the dining room table where she was enjoying a cup of tea and a good read, she took the box off the sideboard and met him as arrived in the room.
Although a little tremulous with age, her voice was, nevertheless, strong.
“Happy Anniversary, Dad”, she beamed, holding the present out.
“Happy Anniversary, Mother”, he smiled back. He knew he’d forgotten it again. And he knew – as always – that she didn’t mind.
They’d met almost seventy years ago, finding themselves with eyes only for one another very soon after. Married at eighteen (their birthdays surprisingly close together), it was a marriage that had lasted longer than a lot of people they’d known had stayed alive. Certainly, they’d outlived all their friends. And, sadly, one or two of their children.
Still, the love they had for one another had been enough to see them through the bad times as well as the good. And tantamount to that was the fact that Carol had never held any ill will at the fact that Norm always forgot their anniversary, despite the fact she never had.
Their eyes met as Norm began unwrapping his gift …
… until something inside it …
… shuddered.
They both froze.
With the near-telepathy that comes from two people sharing a lifetime together, they both knew that Carol was not responsible for …
… whatever it was.
Nevertheless:
“That … that’s that pewter tankard you had your eye on … ”.
Norm set the box down on the kitchen table.
They backed away.
Their hands met and – though cold with age and fright – they found solace and strength in that simple touch.
It was needed.
The box shuddered once more.
Norm knew that to wonder aloud what could be making such a skin-crawling sound would be redundant; Carol was wondering that as well. However, before they could consider a course of action …
… whatever it was inside the box thumped against the lid.
Instinctively, Norm moved between Carol and the box as the thumping from within grew louder and more violent. Whatever it was in there – whatever it was that shouldn’t have been in there – was coming out, and Norm wasn’t about to leave Carol in harm’s way.
Moving as fast as he could manage, he guided Carol further away from the table as the shuddering inside the box began making it jump and tip.
With Carol in front of him, they moved down the hall towards the front door. Norm had no idea what was in the box, but he knew in the pit of his stomach that they didn’t want to be around when whatever it was got out.
As they shuffled out of the hall and into the foyer, something behind them exploded with a crack of thunder as whatever it was in the box broke loose, an inexplicable increase in mass slamming into the table below – splintering it – as it leapt free.
Somehow knowing they’d never make it to the front door in time, Norm herded Carol towards the closer bathroom. Like all the doors in their old house, it was thick, and Norm desperately hoped it would keep whatever it was out.
No less worse than due to the fact it was in his mind, Norm’s skin tightened with the expectation of razor-sharp talons raking his back as whatever it was gained on them.
Carol went in ahead of him …
… then Norm, slamming the door behind him.
As quickly as he could, he turned and flipped the lock. The adrenalin that had enabled him to get them both up the hall had left him, and he sagged against the door, exhausted.
Whatever it was slammed against the door hard enough to bend it inwards, savagely knocking Norm back onto the tiled floor. Carol screamed as she heard the distinct snap of breaking bones on impact, then screamed again as another impact sent a vicious crack down the middle of the door.
In the seconds before whatever it was came upon them, Norm – through a haze of pain – realized that although it wasn’t in their sleep as he’d hoped …
… they would die together.
Copyright © 2008 by David Scott Aubrey
All Rights Reserved
996 Words
This short story is a work of fiction. Any and all names, characters and/or incidents are either products of my imagination or are used fictitiously. Where any such resemblance may exist to actual persons (living or dead), actual events or locales, it is purely coincidental.
Please don't assume that my characters speak for me or carry my own opinions on various matters in any way, shape or form (though some might - you never can tell).
(47%)
WIDGETIZE
theoddbod # 21. July 2008, 21:39
Cois # 21. July 2008, 23:06
Ravo # 22. July 2008, 00:17
clean # 22. July 2008, 01:41
This one surprised the hell out of me. Started writing it last night and had very different ideas of what it was going to be, but it sort of ran away with itself.
I was originally going to write something about exactly what was in the box (in fact, at the beginning, they were swapping anniversary gifts, so there were two boxes).
Then it suddenly occurred to me, "I wonder if it might be better not to?" It was one of those times when the reader's imagination could have been better at describing the monster than I ever could.
Not quite 'Lovecraftian', but ... kind of (in that there was no real description of the monster and it was left up to the reader's imagination).
(Not that I'm comparing myself to any of the Lovecraftian writers, mind you ... I didn't mention Cthulhu once!
theoddbod # 22. July 2008, 06:58
clean # 22. July 2008, 09:20
Oops.
thatgirl # 22. July 2008, 13:38
clean # 22. July 2008, 22:59
Mutant gene, perhaps?
Thank you
I wouldn't mind getting 'em published in book form some day!
I've had one offer from the Australian company, Pick a Pocket Book. Although I, at first, thought it was a scam (and there's plenty of 'em for writers on the internet), it seems legit, and I can't find a bad word about 'em anywhere on the internet (and I looked). Unfortunately, they seem pretty immutable about the cover picture (it's standard for all their books), and I didn't think it really suited a book of short horror stories.
Beyond that, I really haven't even attempted to submit anything to a publisher, mainly because I don't like the thought of thousands of rejection slips (before I 'strike gold', of course
Certainly, I'd probably suck with any sort of cover letter or official submission (I might
Most publishers don't accept unsolicited submissions. I'm also not sure if it's worth looking for an agent to schlep around short stories (as opposed to novels, for which I have ideas, but no product).
Still ... one day ...
thatgirl # 23. July 2008, 13:52
clean # 23. July 2008, 15:09
angel292005 # 25. July 2008, 11:22
clean # 25. July 2008, 12:43
Buy you can have the second copy ...
thatgirl # 25. July 2008, 12:48
clean # 25. July 2008, 23:16
Ravo # 25. July 2008, 23:52
1. A book must be viewed as a 'Product' that you are marketing. So, put on your Sales hat, and consider that old sales formula: You show the product to 40 prospects, ten are interested, and two will buy.
2. According to the foregoing, a writer must have a hide as thick as a Rhinoceros. Don't internalize the rejection slips. Make a dart board of them!
3. If your friends like the 'product', chances are, a publisher will as well.
4. Agents are plentiful if you are a published author. Most agents are too lazy to shop around a new author. This means that you should contact the editor in charge of submissions directly.
5. Your cover letter to the editor should be as succinct as possible, and yet create the interest to prompt him or her to ask for the full manuscript.
6. Poor grammer, punctuation, and so forth in your cover letter as well as your sample pages will kill their interest quicker than the Ebola virus.
clean # 26. July 2008, 06:58
Thank you, Ravo, both for the advice and taking the time to give it!
Okay, folks, I've decided - based upon a few different things (not least of which was point 3, above) - that I'm now going to start looking for publishers.
I'll let you know how it goes ...
theoddbod # 26. July 2008, 09:49
clean # 26. July 2008, 12:19
theoddbod # 26. July 2008, 14:50
clean # 27. July 2008, 00:21
And I know what you mean about the months writing a book. sometimes it takes me months to finish a short story ...
theoddbod # 27. July 2008, 12:32
Your short stories are usually a lot longer than mine. I'm trying to gradually write longer pieces, or try for stories in instalments. Maybe in decade I'll reach book length
Mickeyjoe_irl # 2. August 2008, 17:20
I know a woman who has published two of her own books - one poetry and one short stories. Then just got local bookshops to carry them. She was also able to sell quite a few to family and friends too.
clean # 3. August 2008, 01:29
I've been following your installments (and desperately meaning to comment on 'em, too)! It's funny how you mentioned the 40s mags - the serials - that's what your writings are reminding me of lately! Here's part one ... now you have to wait for the next bit ... ! Gah!
Mickey,
That's a very interesting idea! I'm going to look into that!
Actually, I wonder if CafePress does things like books of stories
Hmm ...
Oh, hey ... !
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm ... !
Mickeyjoe_irl # 3. August 2008, 21:36
theoddbod # 3. August 2008, 21:43
Anyway, I'm still learning
Amazon has an 'on-demand publishing' section via this lot :
http://www.createspace.com/
Something to consider.
Mickeyjoe_irl # 3. August 2008, 22:07
clean # 3. August 2008, 23:12
It'll all be your fault - people will be able to point to this post as proof of it! This is the day the world turned ... !
Mart,
I think Stephen King mentioned something like that in his Green Mile books - trying to get that same sense of anticipation (which is why he was releasing 'em - initially - as a serial).
I had no idea about Amazon - i'll check it out now!
Mickey,
I've had the odd comment from him (and commented there myself on occasion). I always liked his occupation, "Ahahaartist", because it sounds like me.
(That link for his book to Kubrick scared the hell out of me! I'm working in a fairly quiet room and forgot I had the volume turned up fairly high on my speakers (I was listening to some Gorillaz before)!)
Mickeyjoe_irl # 3. August 2008, 23:40
clean # 4. August 2008, 13:14