Until Mother Comes Home...

Flash Fiction February (Day 24)

Matthew Odin via Unsplash+

I still remember standing in that sunroom, looking out the windows that covered the walls on all sides. It was a beautiful backyard, to be sure, but the fence across the back was an eye sore. It was almost ten feet tall, chain link, covered in barbed wire like it was protecting a prison.

And yet, the land beyond the property line was a horse ranch. A thin patch of trees gave way to a private road, a white fence, and rolling verdant hills with a farmhouse sitting on the horizon—ten acres, with that god awful fence running around the entire border.

It was weird, to say the least.

“The owner of the ranch just prefers their privacy, that’s all,” the realtor said with a forced smile.

Clearly.

The sale closed on the house without any real issues and I moved in a few months later. It was the peak of fall, so I liked spending my time outside on the patio. I tried not to look at that ugly fence, but one day, I noticed something concerning while sitting beside a crackling fire pit.

That tree looks like it’s about to fall.

One of the trees on the outer side of the barbed wire fence was choked with vines. They curled like emerald parasites around its bark to the point where I could barely see the tree underneath. I tried not to think about it.

The damn thing fell a week later during a storm.

So, there I was, standing in my backyard, looking at a tree that had crushed a section of the horse ranch’s fence like it was made of tissue paper. The metal was twisted and flattened.

Half the tree was on my property, and half of it was still lying past the fence. This was a problem. Thankfully, though, it was a problem that could be easily solved with power tools. The week went on, and every day after work, I sat out in my backyard and stared at that fallen tree.

A different kind of eye sore.

I told myself that when the weekend came, I would grab my electric chainsaw and cut the damn thing up. Whoever owned the ranch clearly didn’t care enough to make it a priority, but I didn’t want a tree rotting in my backyard.

Besides, it would be the perfect excuse to put up a fence of my own. A normal one. Without barbed wire. Or, who knows, maybe I’ll add the barbed wire.

At least then, it will match.

On a crisp fall Saturday morning, I grabbed my gloves, my protective plastic glasses, and my electric chainsaw. It was time to slice this tree up into pieces that I could carry to the curb for pickup. I walked through the dead leaves in my backyard, the sound of the crunch beneath my feet the only noise you could hear for miles.

It was a quiet neighborhood, which I appreciated. It was halfway up a mountain and far from the noise of civilization. Nice during the day, but creepy at night.

I stood over the fallen tree and started up the chainsaw. The blades spun around the edge like gnashing teeth as I brought them down onto the vines covering the fallen tree. Chunks of green leaves and brown bark flittered through the air around me.

Then I saw something red.

I instinctively stopped the chainsaw and squinted at the sight before me. A crimson liquid, too runny to be a sap, bubbled out from beneath the bark.

Is that…blood?

“Hey! What the fuck are you doing?” a voice yelled.

I looked up and saw an elderly man with an uneven gait hobbling toward me at his maximum speed.

“What are you doing on my property!” he shouted.

I looked around and realized I had indeed started on the side of the tree that was over the broken fence.

Why the hell did I start here?

I took off the protective glasses and tossed them on the ground. “Hey, sorry. This tree fell down earlier this week, and I was just trying to help clean it up.”

“You’ve made a grave mistake!” the old man hissed.

“Okay, I don’t know what you’re on about, but I’m just trying to help. If you want to handle it, that’s fine; I’ll just head back inside.”

The old man finally reached me, his breath coming in ragged bursts. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“What the hell are you t—”

I felt something heavy hit the back of my head, and everything went black.

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Mohammad Alizade via Unsplash+

When I woke up again, I felt a coarse rope against my wrists. My hands were tied behind my back. I tried to look around but felt a wooden post hit the back of my head.

“Hey, someone help me! I need help!” I shouted.

A single click preceded a lit lightbulb swinging from the rafters of a barn. The ground was littered with hay. The old man from earlier stood over me, dressed in a pair of overalls and balancing a lit cigarette in his mouth.

“You ever stop and think that maybe all that fencing is there for a reason, son?” he asked.

“Listen, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to step on your land!” I said, struggling against the ropes.

The old man laughed. A deep and guttural chuckle. The kind you hear when someone’s about to drop a revelation that will chill you to your core.

“My land? My land, he says? Stacy, get in here!”

A woman stepped into the light, holding a double-barreled shotgun. Her red hair burned like fire under the harsh light, but I was more worried about the fire in her eyes.

She slid two shells into the gun and snapped it shut. The old man walked closer and knelt down so he could look me in the eye.

“This ain’t my land, boy. It ain’t Stacy’s, either. This land ain’t even land. You're sitting on the body of a thing older than the universe itself. Something that was alive long before us and will be alive long after, but for now, we are her servants.”

I broke eye contact and stifled a laugh. “Okay, so that’s it? You’re just bat-shit crazy? Do you have any idea how you sound?”

The old man stood up and nodded to the redhead. “Send him to meet Gai’ylthnik,” he looked back down at me, “See you soon, kiddo.”

The redhead leveled the barrel of the shotgun at my head and curled her finger around the trigger.

“WAIT! JUST WAIT A FUCKING SEC—”

The last thing I heard was the ear-shattering sound of a shotgun blast. My head was no doubt spread across the hay on the barn’s floor, and yet, I felt something.

I felt…cold?

There was also a scent in the air, though I couldn’t see anything. It was musty and earthy.

Dirt?

Then a voice whispered in my ear. My skin tingled like its lips were mere inches from me.

You will serve…

Protect…

Until Mother comes home…

Death…

No longer holds you…

Without warning, I suddenly felt the need to breathe, but I couldn’t. I moved my hands and felt cold dirt all around them. I pushed up as hard as I could and broke through the surface. Light and air rushed in as I sat up.

I stood up and immediately ran my hands across my head and my hair. Everything was there, perfectly intact. I spun around and saw the crushed section of fence at the edge of the ranch. I was mere feet from my property.

Just get home, and you can figure out the rest from there.

I climbed out of the shallow hole where I had been buried and ran towards the fence. Just a few more steps, and I would be home.

Then I felt something wrap around my leg.

I looked down and saw vines curling around both my ankles like snakes.

“What the hell? No! Let me go!” I screamed.

I heard that voice again, whispering just beside my ear.

No escape…

Stay. Protect.

Until mother comes home…

The vines pulled both my legs out from under me with incredible force. My head hit the ground with a sharp impact. My vision was blurry as I felt them dragging me across the soil. When I finally stopped moving, I was lying on my back. I felt grass beneath me.

I looked up at a sky full of stars, took a deep breath, and tried to calm my racing mind. I heard footsteps and looked to my right as the old man appeared, still smoking that same cigarette. He chuckled as he looked down at me.

“Welcome back, kiddo. Let’s get you cleaned up; we’ve got work to do.”

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