828 words
Another silly, self-contained story. Don’t know exactly where it came from but it was fun to write.
The teenage girl screamed as if her lungs would burst. She dragged herself along the cabin floor, clawing at the splintered boards with her nails. Her legs, rubbery and useless, trailed behind her. The blood spilling from the deep gash across her abdomen was making her movements sluggish. She was operating on pure fear and adrenaline. It was almost over.
Jason advanced stoically and raised his machete, but a sound behind him made him stop. It was the sound of metal on wood; something was… spinning? He turned to look behind him.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Michael shrugged. He was sitting at the rough-hewn kitchen table, whirling his butcher knife on its surface as if he were playing Spin the Bottle.
Jason pointed the blade at the girl. “Are you going to help me with this, or what?” Below him, the girl shrieked. Jason put his boot on her cheek and pressed down. “Hey, shush for a second. I can’t hear him.” She whimpered. He looked at Michael. “You said we were going to do this together.”
Michael spun the kitchen knife again. When it stopped, he picked it up by the handle and appraised it before driving its point into the table with a loud thunk. The sound prompted the girl to renew her wails, though it was clear her cries were diminishing.
“It looks like you have this all under control,” Michael said.
Jason couldn’t see Michael’s face under the mask but could tell he was pouting. He increased the pressure on the girl’s face. The screams dissolved into sobs. “Shh,” he said again. “You’re being rude.” He looked at Michael and pointed at the girl. “You want to finish her off?”
Michael shrugged and then shook his head.
“What’s your problem, Michael? We were looking forward to this. You were looking forward to this. ‘New group of teenagers,’ you said. ‘Camping trip,’ you said. ‘Fresh meat,’ you said.
“I know,” Michael said, wrenching the knife from the wood and setting it on the table. “I guess I…”
“What?” Jason asked. “You guess what?”
“I guess I’ve lost my appetite.” Michael leaned in his chair and rocked on its back legs. The chair threatened to collapse, and Michael righted it.
“Appetite?” Jason said, looking down at the girl. She was barely moving. The blood from her belly had spread in a crimson circle around her body, seeping into the floorboards. “You want to eat her? Huh. That’s new,” he said.
Michael shook his head. “No, I don’t want to eat her. God, you’re so literal sometimes. I just mean that… I don’t know. This used to be really fun. And now it just seems like…”
“Does this have anything to do with your annual review?” Jason removed his foot from the girl’s face. Only her fingers twitched. He walked to the table, leaving behind a trail of sticky red boot prints, and sat down. “Is that what this is about?”
“I don’t know,” Michael said. “Maybe. Yes. I don’t know.” He began to spin the knife again, and Jason flattened his palm on the blade to stop its rotation.
“Look,” Jason said. “I know your review was a little rough this year—“
Michael scoffed and turned away. “A little,” he said.
“—But at your level,” he continued, “we just expect a little more. I mean, no one is better with a knife than you are, but you know, branch out. Be a little creative.”
“Creative? What do you call a corn harvester?” Michael was breathing heavily. Jason thought it must be pretty humid under the mask by now.
Jason lowered his voice. “I’d call that creative. Honestly, that’s how you got a ‘meets expectations’ this year. If it hadn’t been for that, well.” He trailed off. “Now, take Freddy—”
Michael threw his hands up. “Oh, here we go. Freddy the golden boy. Mr. Freddy Scissorhands. Freddy, Freddy, Freddy. I can’t compete with that. The dude can enter dreams!”
Jason nodded. “Sure, but he doesn’t just enter dreams. I mean, the guy is a genius at killing kids. He could just show up and stab them with his hand, but he’s an artist. He turns them into cockroaches and then kills them. You see the difference?” Michael grumbled something under his breath.
Jason cocked his head at the girl. “Come on, man. Let’s finish her together. I’m sure we can find something creative to do to get ahead start on your mid-year review. Maybe you could eat her! What do you say?”
Michael shuffled his body on the chair and exhaled deeply. It rasped inside the mask. “All right. Let’s do it.”
Jason clapped Michael on the shoulder. “That’s my man! Let’s do this!”
Michael pulled himself from the chair while Jason went back to the girl and picked up his machete. Michael joined him. They raised their weapons.
Jason paused. “Wait a minute.” He nudged her right leg with a boot. He dropped the blade to his side with a sigh of exasperation. “Well, shit. She’s already dead.”
Clamhead 