A Shit Murderer - A Flash Vignette

My killing stick is mulch now.

My killing stick is mulch now.

The murder weapon I made from a blunt branch with a simple crack and a whack to someone’s head.

It’s still bloodied now, wet and crumbling—the forest and Mother Dearest doing their work, grinding us all into dust.

To tell you the truth, I expected the body to go much the same way.

Maybe it had, but it wasnt here.

Had it been that long?

I wandered deeper into the trees.

Something shifted. A wet sound.

A drag through leaves.

-

“Looking for me?”

I turned.

There he was All black and blue. Bloodied, wet, flaking apart like the murder stick itself.

“Yeah,” I said. “Thought I’d visit.”

His skin bubbled. His eyes bulged.

“Funny.”

He collapsed onto a fallen tree with a sound somewhere between a sigh and a splatter. Flesh glistened and drooped in the sunlight creeping through the canopy.

When I sat beside him, he chuckled.

“You’re a shit murderer.”

“You look damn near dead to me.”

Right then, a chunk of his calf slipped clean off the bone.

“I feel it,” he said. “Certainly look it.”

“Yeah, you look it. Say…” I glanced at his leg. “How are you still…”

“Up and at it?”

“Yeah.”

“As I said.” He smiled, “You’re a shit murderer.”

“Fuck you, asshole.”

“I’m the asshole?”

We sat in silence awhile on that fallen tree.

Its bark was damp too, crumbling beneath my weight.

-

“Are you going to kill me again?”

“Huh?”

I knew what he meant.

“Finish the job?”

“Ah.”

I looked around the woods.

“Yeah.” I stood.

“Let me get a new stick real quick.”

-MAKINGMRK