Machinery, Take Thy Dream
Chapter 07: The Disposal
I stood in my back yard, shovel in hand, digging a pit where I planned on burying Mr. Simmons’ body. Several trees had fell around the perfect burial spot I had envisioned planting him and the thick mud wasn’t making the job easier. It kept swallowing my shoes, and every time I removed some of the mud from the plot, it would quickly refill.
It had been a long 9 day stay in the hospital (due to some damaged muscles and tendons). I was more than anxious to return to my home and I was elated to see that Mr. Simmons’ was still lying undisturbed on the lab table in my basement. Although no one had thought to search my house for him, they did quickly notice that the town idiot was missing.
I sigh in frustration as I shove the shovel deep into the mud. It doesn’t come to me as a surprise that I can not find the strength to pull it out. I stare at the 28 stitches that go clean across my hand in a diagonal direction and slowly make my way out of the muddy mess.
I leave my foot prints across the back porch and don’t bother to take my shoes off at the door as I go across the kitchen and down to the basement. I tuck my arms under Mr. Simmons body and drag him off the table, “Come along, Mr. Simmons, it looks as if I am forced to resort to plan B.”
I drag him out of the front door through the mud and toss his heavy body into the trunk of my car. Covering him up with a white sheet I get in and I drive. I don’t really know where I am headed, but I do know that I have to get rid of him somehow, especially with Isabelle visiting me so often. It almost seemed like she was over at my house more than she was at her own house.
Then I see it. A large brown sign sits by the side of the road which reads, “Pound Damn, 500 ft ahead”. I smile and look at Mr. Simmons’ through the rear view mirror, “Well, Mr. Simmons, it looks like I’ve found your resting spot.”
The early morning fog still floats over the still water as I drag Mr. Simmons’ fully exposed body down the dock. His eyes seem to stare up through me and gaze at the gray sky and I am unnerved by it. Death usually doesn’t bother me but something about bringing his body and dumping it in the dam makes me feel uneasy.
We reach the end of the dock and I squat over his body, offering up a moment of silence for the man. He stank terribly, and the stench of his decaying flesh seemed to rub off and sink deep into my clothes. I had never let a body sit and rot in my basement before. In all reality I had no clue that a corpse could smell so bad.
I leave his body at the end of the dock and return to my car where I find a potato sack. I quickly fill it with heavy rocks and drag it down the dock with much more difficulty than I had with my victim. I take the rope and tie it around his feet then to the bag. I stare at him some more before sniffling and picking him up.
“Goodbye, dreamer.” I say as I swing his body into the lake, “Your death was to a good cause.”
He just floated there; face down on the surface of the lake. After I waste more time staring I push the bag of rocks off the edge of the dock and watch as he is quickly snatched from my sight sinking to the bottom of the dam. The image of his dark brown hair slipping under the surface of the water will be stained into my memory forever.
“Getting rid of a body is harder than you would imagine isn’t it?”
I freeze, facing the dam. The voice is unfamiliar and I try to act as if I’m innocent but apparently the person knows. How am I supposed to cover up my disposal of evidence when they actually saw me get rid of it?! I turn slowly to face a man dressed in a brown suit with a badge on the left side of his chest. It’s none other than Sheriff Sheldon.
I stand there silently. It’s bad enough that I’ve been caught red handed but by the sheriff? My luck couldn’t get any worse.
“Get out of here, son.” Sheldon says in a forgiving tone as he nods his head towards the parking lot.
I quickly walk away but stop as I pass by him, “You’re not going to say anything about this?”
I hear a change in his voice, almost like he fully understood, “We all have our secrets, and yours is safe with me.”
It had been a long 9 day stay in the hospital (due to some damaged muscles and tendons). I was more than anxious to return to my home and I was elated to see that Mr. Simmons’ was still lying undisturbed on the lab table in my basement. Although no one had thought to search my house for him, they did quickly notice that the town idiot was missing.
I sigh in frustration as I shove the shovel deep into the mud. It doesn’t come to me as a surprise that I can not find the strength to pull it out. I stare at the 28 stitches that go clean across my hand in a diagonal direction and slowly make my way out of the muddy mess.
I leave my foot prints across the back porch and don’t bother to take my shoes off at the door as I go across the kitchen and down to the basement. I tuck my arms under Mr. Simmons body and drag him off the table, “Come along, Mr. Simmons, it looks as if I am forced to resort to plan B.”
I drag him out of the front door through the mud and toss his heavy body into the trunk of my car. Covering him up with a white sheet I get in and I drive. I don’t really know where I am headed, but I do know that I have to get rid of him somehow, especially with Isabelle visiting me so often. It almost seemed like she was over at my house more than she was at her own house.
Then I see it. A large brown sign sits by the side of the road which reads, “Pound Damn, 500 ft ahead”. I smile and look at Mr. Simmons’ through the rear view mirror, “Well, Mr. Simmons, it looks like I’ve found your resting spot.”
The early morning fog still floats over the still water as I drag Mr. Simmons’ fully exposed body down the dock. His eyes seem to stare up through me and gaze at the gray sky and I am unnerved by it. Death usually doesn’t bother me but something about bringing his body and dumping it in the dam makes me feel uneasy.
We reach the end of the dock and I squat over his body, offering up a moment of silence for the man. He stank terribly, and the stench of his decaying flesh seemed to rub off and sink deep into my clothes. I had never let a body sit and rot in my basement before. In all reality I had no clue that a corpse could smell so bad.
I leave his body at the end of the dock and return to my car where I find a potato sack. I quickly fill it with heavy rocks and drag it down the dock with much more difficulty than I had with my victim. I take the rope and tie it around his feet then to the bag. I stare at him some more before sniffling and picking him up.
“Goodbye, dreamer.” I say as I swing his body into the lake, “Your death was to a good cause.”
He just floated there; face down on the surface of the lake. After I waste more time staring I push the bag of rocks off the edge of the dock and watch as he is quickly snatched from my sight sinking to the bottom of the dam. The image of his dark brown hair slipping under the surface of the water will be stained into my memory forever.
“Getting rid of a body is harder than you would imagine isn’t it?”
I freeze, facing the dam. The voice is unfamiliar and I try to act as if I’m innocent but apparently the person knows. How am I supposed to cover up my disposal of evidence when they actually saw me get rid of it?! I turn slowly to face a man dressed in a brown suit with a badge on the left side of his chest. It’s none other than Sheriff Sheldon.
I stand there silently. It’s bad enough that I’ve been caught red handed but by the sheriff? My luck couldn’t get any worse.
“Get out of here, son.” Sheldon says in a forgiving tone as he nods his head towards the parking lot.
I quickly walk away but stop as I pass by him, “You’re not going to say anything about this?”
I hear a change in his voice, almost like he fully understood, “We all have our secrets, and yours is safe with me.”
♠ ♠ ♠
A sheriff who condones murder?! What type of town is this?!!I think I am enjoying writing this story a bit too much! Please comment, criticize, or encourage..We need all three of those things.