A Pile Of Dust

page 7

by K. Kylyra Ameringer

Now Margaret could feel the thing down her throat had reached it's intended target: her stomach. New pain erupted in her, hot and white as she began to be bitten and chewed from the inside out. The searing agony would last, she knew, as long as they could make it last. Her mind disconnected from herself and she floated, knowing the pain and torture of her human form as a distant thing until the it dulled down into numbness and a darkness blacker than night crept across her for the last time.

"This was my aunt's house," Mary Leary said as she turned the front door lock to Number 4 Hawthorne Drive. "I've not even been out here since all this has gone on." She nodded her head down the road of the small housing development. Several houses were gone, to be replaced by empty lots filled with young tree shoots and untended plants. "I'm afraid the place may be a bit messy ..."

"That's fine," the young woman beside her said. The last rays of the setting sun caught the bright streak in her hair. "My brother and I are just eager to get settled somewhere." She nodded to her companion, a tall man with wide shoulders and bright blue hair who stood gazing at the empty lots down the road.

"What was it you said you did?" Mary asked as she opened the front door and led the pair into the house.

"We're artists," the woman replied simply.

Mary was satisfied to find the house was in fairly good shape; a little peeling wallpaper and a few minor cracks from settling. She led the sister and brother through the hallway, pointing out the kitchen as they passed by and ending the short tour in the largest of the three bedrooms. There were no cracks on the walls or ceiling; it looked, in fact, like her aunt had recently had some work done in the room.

"This is the master bedroom; a nice size - oh!" Mary stopped suddenly and rushed forward. A small pile of dust lay on the floor near the bed. "I'll clean this up before you move in, you don't need to worry about that ..."

"Oh, no need, no need," the woman assured her. "It's just a pile of dust. Let me help you with that; I'll go find a broom."

A Pile Of Dust by K. Kylyra Ameringer


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