WHAT LIES BENEATH – #flashfictionmagic
It was one of those houses that looks…stiff. New and expensive, like no one lived or loved in it yet.
Margery wondered what the owners—who never seemed to be there—would think if she knocked on the door and offered to ruffle their house up a a bit. It was ridiculous, of course, but every morning she looked to see if anything had changed. Had the blinds been opened, or at least left a teensy bit crooked?
Had a gangly weed sprouted between the hard nosed boxwoods?
A year ago the For Sale sign had disappeared and she’d spotted a sleek silver car pulling into the garage. After that, the silver car came and went sporadically. Gardeners came and tended the boxwoods. The house kept its eyes closed.
It drove Margery crazier every day. She watched the door obsessively. Surely a cleaning lady would come and Margery could ask her a few neighborly questions? She hadn’t seen the silver car glide down the street in days.
Then it happened.
A single weed erupted right by the front porch step. It seemed to grow overnight, encouraged by early spring rains, until it towered as tall as the porch furniture.
Mesmerized, Margery wafted across the street in the chill, misty afternoon. Everything was tight shut as always, the garage, the windows. She gathered her grit and rang the doorbell. Nothing.
She moved to the back fence, the eerie fog prickling through her sweater arms. Stretching to her tiptoes, she meant to take a short peek and then dash back across the street. But she found herself surveying the shallow, muddy backyard, her gaze drawn to the thick woods bordering it.
Her fingers convulsed on the wood and a soundless scream shook her throat. A body lay at the edge of the trees, its skin drained white and its eyes staring dead at her.
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