"Mayhem at the Henderson's Place "

A Short Story Collaboration by Pierre C. Arseneault and Angella Jacob

The morning dew wept, sliding down the grass blades as the rising sun crept upwards over the large field at the Henderson's place. The spring sunrise showered the new day with its' prospects and promises of renewed bounty at the farm. From outside the old barn, the sunlight inched upwards, creating a golden facade which contrasted well with the red exterior. From inside the barn, however, the sun's rays also brought about a disturbing clarity to the bloody crimson covering the dirt floor. The rays peered through the thin slits of the wooden walls, and cast down a plentiful row of brightness upon the bloodied shoes of the man.

Cowering in the far corner of the barn, Alice tried to hide behind some old machinery, her head dizzy with the events that had unfolded before her eyes. The sadistic man had held them all captive in the old barn for two days, and had just now started to kill them off, one by one. Their attempts to escape the night before had failed. The door would not open and they were trapped inside the decrepit barn overnight. The man had come back just before the sun started to rise, careful not to rouse them, he'd entered in the still dark space where he'd kept them.

Alice tried to erase the visions that were now ingrained in her mind. First Wendy, her good friend, hadn't had a chance to even cry out as he had brought down his axe upon her, the blood running down the handle and onto his boots. Then her friend Janet had been next. Her screams carried the fear and the anguish of what they had all felt. She had struggled against the powerful grip of the man's large hands. She had tried to escape him, but her struggles had been pointless. His axe carried her death on the sharp blade, her soul disappearing into his wild and hungry eyes. Those eyes had seemed hungry for their blood and held reflections of his sick, demented mind.

Alice felt afraid, but mostly she felt saddened knowing that the end was drawing near for her own soul. As he brought down the axe for a moment, it thumped against his boot, a sickening and morbid reminder of the power it held over them all. His eyes peered at Alice, still in the corner, trying to avoid being seen by the monstrous man. He walked over to where she crouched, close to the dirt, her eyes avoiding his own. He grabbed her neck with one massive hand, and pull her towards the middle of the barn, where death waited with a mocking grin. She clawed at his arms, and tried to bite the hand that held her down. For a brief moment she managed to squirm away, but when he took hold of her once more, she knew the end was drawing near. He held her head with his foot now, his dirty boot pressing down on her hard. Her wide eyes felt the shadow of his rising arms over her soon to be lifeless body. It seemed that time stood still, each second lasting longer than the one before as she waited for the one final blow to end this nightmare. She felt the shadow slither away from her and at the same time her eyes caught the glint of the blade reflected in the sun. It bounced off of the old broken window directly across from her. The bright reflection of the sunlight shone directly into her eyes, and Alice embraced this as a sign that all would be as it should. Darkness fell upon her soul as the axe came rushing down.

* * *

Edgar walked into the house that stood near the barn. His hand held a large gash, blood dripped and left a trail on the clean white ceramic floors. He rushed to the kitchen, where his wife was standing at the sink. Upon hearing him return, she asked: “So, are they all dead?” Edgar, distracted by the cut on his hand simply replied “Yup...”. Freda turned to face her husband and her eyes grew wide. “You're getting blood all over the place! Get over the sink....what happened?” Edgar winced as the cold tap water began to clean the cut. Freda handed him a towel and said: “You better get that taken care of before it gets infected....”

Edgar nodded and replied “I will, as soon as I finish what I started...I need to make room for the new chicks. We need the eggs.” Freda started cleaning the blood on the kitchen floor as she said: “Bring me one of those chickens when you're done. We can have some stew for lunch.”

COPYRIGHT 2011 ANGELLA JACOB & PIERRE C. ARSENEAULT. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.