Love Lies Dead
Page 6
Paul started sawing.
WITH BENEFITS
Clive deserved much better than this.
He really did.
Paul smiled inwardly.
It was a good thing he’d saved Clive from the grave.
The better part of him, anyway.
He needed to lose all that excess weight, after all, Paul mused to himself.
As he watched the procession of the grieving and the broken stagger from his best friend’s freshly planted remains, he allowed himself a grin.
They’d be gone soon. All gone. Back to their lives and their jobs and their kids and their cares.
It was nice to attend a funeral free of the bitter rain that had darkened the skies upon the burial of his ex-girlfriend. Today, the sun had shone brightly in a clear blue sky, as pure and brilliant as an ocean. It was a rarity in northern Scotland, but a welcome one.
He didn’t want to stay here long. He’d been very careful to watch the funeral from afar, and had even gone so far as to procure flowers and lay them at the grave of a stranger, just in case any police were watching.
Strangely, there were none to be found.
Even stranger, Paul had only been questioned briefly once the body was found.
It had been far more painless an interrogation than he’d imagined. More of a talk, really. The officers who he’d spoken with had told him that Clive had been fighting with his wife a lot, and going through a very ugly divorce at the time of his murder, Turned out she’d been seeing another man on the side. One of his very own colleagues: Trevor.
They’d certainly kept that quiet.
They’d arrested them both on the same day. Threw the book at them apparently.
Fortune favours the bold, he thought.
As for Jane…well, the story of her passing - and her subsequent disappearance from her grave - was already a thing of legend.
A tale for kids to tell by the glow of campfire to their friends, hoping to scare them.
The murders had been unrelated, and while the investigation went on with renewed vigour for a while after Jane had moved in with him, they’d never found anything approaching a viable suspect.
As for Jane…
She’d moved out.
She lived in the Strathclyde woods now…sleeping seven feet under an old oak tree in three separate rubbish bags.
Paul smiled as he thought of her, and their love. A love that burned so brightly, yet could never last.
The memory was bittersweet, but Paul was no longer one for misery.
After all, who needed a girlfriend when you had the best friend in all the world, waiting for you right at home?
He thought of Clive back at his place, sat in front of the television, and felt his spirits lift. He had a great night planned for the two of them.
Paul had picked the movies, but he was sure Clive wouldn’t mind.
It wasn’t like he could do anything about Paul’s choices anyway. A man’s protestations didn’t amount to much when he couldn’t move. And it was hard to move when you were missing your body from the neck down.
That reminded him, he’d need to pick up a new jar of vinegar on his way home. He didn’t want Clive’s friendship waning like Jane’s love did. He intended for their friendship to last a long time.
He’d maybe pick up a new jar for Clive, too. Something a little bigger and more decorative. The jar he was in just now was a little cramped.
Clive had a big head.
The sun was sinking low, now. That was good.
He needed the cover of dark. It had always been his ally on his peeping adventures, and it remained his ally now.
He shuffled the rucksack off his back and let it fall to the grass before the stranger’s grave.
He knelt forward, unzipped the bag, and pulled out the small, half-size shovel that he’d packed in there that afternoon.
An owl sang its mournful song into the night as Paul once again took in the etching engraved on the deceased stone.
Meredith White
Beloved daughter of Pauline and Preston
Taken from us all too soon.
1997-2016
He felt a touch of shame.
How could he not?
“Yep…” Paul whispered to himself as he pushed the shovel into the freshly laid dirt. “I do hate to have to lie to you, Clive...”
And lie he had.
Perhaps not outright, he told himself. Perhaps it was more of a ‘half-truth’ he’d told his friend.
He’d promised Clive it’d just be the two of them from here on in.
No more girlfriends to cause them pain or split them up.
No more drama.
No more complications.
He’d sworn he’d stay single forever.
But he hadn’t said anything about one night stands.
And a single man sure did get horny sometimes...
THE END
AUTHOR’S BIO
Kyle M. Scott is a horror author hailing from the dark and desolate wastelands of Glasgow, Scotland. He spent his formative years immersed in the world of horror, devouring the genre in all its forms. A rabid fan of the underground authors whose work paved the way for a more visceral, hard-hitting style of horror, Kyle's love of extreme gore and boundary-pushing fiction could only lead him down one path.
Kyle currently has four works available. Volume 1 and 2 of the 'Consumed' series - a collection of dark fiction that melds extreme horror with the blackest wit - and the full-length love letter to 80's splatter and monster movies, 'Devil's Day'. His second novel, 'Aftertaste', pushed the boundaries of depravity to raw and shocking levels, combining social satire, suspense and a heavy dose of graphic horror.
In his relatively short career, his works have made him a favourite among readers with a taste for fearless, provocative fiction that evokes the classic works of those who shaped modern horror.
Among his many influences, he cites Richard Laymon, Edward Lee and Jack Ketchum as the writers who sealed his fate.
At present, he is working on the extreme horror novel, Hell's Auxiliary.
Kyle currently resides in Glasgow with his long suffering partner, an arrogant cat, and an imagination that keeps him up all night contemplating therapy.
Legend tells that he leaves chocolate on the doorsteps of those who review his work.
This has yet to be confirmed, but why take the risk of missing out?
We’re talking free chocolate, here…