I decided it’d be good to get out of my manuscript editing and clear my head with a prompt, so here’s one I scribbled 🙂 Since we’re about to hit October I decided I a little horror, hope it’s engaging.
Prompt : Something Wrapped
We wait for them to fall; for what we’ve done, for what they’re owed. Daddy says we don’t owe em nothin. Daddy says they shiftless and they tired. Daddy ain’t really say too much more about them since the first one fell.
Use to be a day that they ain’t make much noise. They just hang there like strange fruit unplucked while we ate smacky sandwitches and sung about glory as they swayed back and forth, back and forth. We’d wrap the hands, not everyone do that but we ain’t like Randy Portson and his dumb-head daddy, if you ain’t smart enough to wrap a nigger’s hands you ain’t got no business wrapping up his neck. He’ll just toss about, try to claw his way out of it and you’ll end up shooting him dead before the picnic even begin.
The first time it happened it was so fast. The fallen was dead as dust for an hour or so and his tater brown skin sagged like dewy shit paper. We danced. I think Johnny Carey woulda asked me out that day if he got the chance. Daddy woulda had a fit. What type of boy has two first names’ he’d say.
Then the fall.
The sound of the snapping rope whipped all our tention’ round. He growled. He wasn’t a man anymore. Not that we gave him much of a chance to be one in the first place. He was strong, stronger than Johnny, Daddy or any other man tried to stop him. He was hungry, and bit at em, at their necks and face and anything else good lord gave shine to. He had a picnic of his own and bit through seven of us before we gunned it down.
It’s been happening all over. Daddy, me and the other five that got bit ain’t been feeling so hot this past week but ahm sure we fine. Everything is going to be just fine.