Family Secret

Gable discovered the loose brick in the back wall of his house. As he prodded at the edges with his fingers, he remembered how his mother told him not to fiddle with loose bricks. Like so many children, he didn’t listen to his mother.

He found a metal ruler and pried at the brick. It wiggled forward, millimeter by millimeter, wobble by wobble. Gable always possessed his father’s curiosity, but, then again, his father had disappeared three years earlier.

The police looked for him, sent out APBs and search teams. Gable’s mother cried when the police were there. Once they left she cursed her husband. Gable remembered his mother yelling, “His damned curiosity got him killed.”

The brick hung far enough out that Gable could grip it with the tips of his fingers. He pinched the rough red surface, and tugged. The block scraped a little farther out with each yank. With one last tug, the brick popped out and sent Gable tumbling into a pile of old paint cans. They tumbled like a car crash.

The brick landed next to his head. Black sludge covered one side of it, and it stank like rotting leaves.

A hole gaped in the wall. Gable hauled himself up. At the front of the house, a door whined open and slapped shut.

Gable peered in the hole. In the gloom, his father's decomposing face stared back at him. Gable froze.

Then he felt hands on his shoulders. Gable couldn't move. He just stared a the face in the darkness. Behind him, he felt his mother squat down. He felt her arms snake around his neck.

“Gable, honey,” his mother said.

She squeezed and his spine popped. His body went limp.

“What did I tell you about loose bricks?”

(end)

Ed's Cloud

Ask Ed about himself and he'll start, “Well, there's this cloud...”

And then he'll tell about the black cloud that follows him and rains shit on his life. But today he knows his goals.

His best friend Andrea needs to do some shopping and get home for winter break with the contents of her room. He has a simple plan: drive out with his girlfriend, meet Andrea and her new boy, have sex in Andrea's shower, tag along while she goes shopping, and then take her home.

“So you must like rain,” Andrea's boy, Ryan, says.

“Hm?” Ed says.

“Your black cloud theory,” Ryan says. “You're in a good enough mood.”

Ed half grins, half frowns. He thinks about the new wrinkle in the story. His mother wants to become an Episcopal priest, and she won't let Ed's father cosign any more loans. The bank won't let him take any more on his own.

“It hasn't hit me yet,” Ed says, “wait a couple hours.”

He bites into an ice cream sandwich even though he knows his immune system will attack his intestines as soon as the food gets there, but it tastes good, and he needs to eat sometime.

He quizzes Ryan on who he is, what he does and what he wants to do, and Ryan sets off some red flags. For one, he goes to a state college. Ed's never been real sure about state college guys, but Ryan doesn't seem typical of that crowd.

Then the Crohn's disease kicks in, and Ed puts his head on the table. His eyes pinch shut, but he holds down the moans of pain while monsters wrestle in his stomach.

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Price of Protection

I'm not to sure of this title. If you have a better idea, please tell me.

1.

Bradon never liked the monthly sacrifices, but he'd been noticing patterns lately, and that bothered him even more. He had to be there, though, Councilor Walker allowed nothing else.

He kept his mouth still and watched the girl in rags while the rest of the congregation murmured prayers. She didn't struggle. No, she marched with dignity toward the altar. The guards on either side never had to touch her.

Dressed in rags, Bradon thought.Just like the last three.

The girl now stood at the bottom of twelve granite steps. They climbed, in their almost living, veined way, to a platform defined by a dish with drain the middle. A seven foot high arch grew over the dish, and three spikes poked through the top of it. Rusty chains dangled from the sides.

A luminance hung in the center. Dull, ethereal, but strangely persistent, it lit the whole temple.

The guards looked at the girl, and she nodded—it was a slow, deep motion. When it finished, she stepped onto the first granite slab.

“It doesn't have to be this way,” Bradon muttered . “We could let the wall down, negotiate.”

The girl on his right ceased her prayer.

“Hush brother,” she said. “Councilor Walker knows what's best.”

“Why are you sure, Rice?” The young man said.

“Hush, Bradon,” Rice said. “Pray.”

Bradon quieted, but he didn't pray.

Now the girl stood in the glow. She turned toward the congregation, and positioned her feet on either end of the drain. She closed her eyes, the image of relaxation, and nodded. The guards nodded back.

One pulled a lever. Metal crashed and flesh tore, but she didn't scream.

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