Exceptional noir-inspired Fun by jim vecchio Story of the Month contest entry

You worm your way, slowly, softly, to those blinds he had closed. Carefully, you peek out. The earth had given birth to another sunrise. That meant more life for you, for your son. You made it this far. If you could only grab Billy from the seat beside him. If you could only do that gently, you might have a chance. Yes, he’s still asleep. Now! You tiptoe to Billy, mustering your strength to lift him in your arms. Then you cover his mouth with your palm and whisper for him to be silent, that any noise would alert him. It's cold outside and all the coats are in the closet. Yet, you avoid the closet door.  You know what lay on the other side. You gently lower Billy. You inch your way to the front door. You begin to unbolt the latch. Billy let out a shriek. You turn quickly to see he has Billy in his grasp, with that strong left arm of his. With the other arm, he held that gun. He walked slowly to the point that he stared, nearly touching your face. He turns the gun to your head. You sink to the floor. He releases Billy from his grip, signaling him to remain silent. He tells Billy to march to the easy chair, where he binds him, then returns. Now, bearing you in his arms, he gently places you on the sofa, covering you with a blanket. Let him think you fainted! Rest! More rest will give you strength! Plan! Think! Remember! Yes, remember how it all began… It was when the doorbell chimed. Is it Stan? Wasn't expecting him... You walked over to the door, shrouded in your robe. “Yes?” “Delivery!” “Delivery?” “You’re Mrs. Blackham? Emily Blackham?” “Yes, that’s me.” “Then, Delivery!” A Delivery, this time of the evening? Not expecting a package, but now curious, you unlatched that bolt. You opened that door. He burst in, bringing small flakes of newly fallen snow with him. He threw off his herringbone tweet cap and ripped off his leather bomber jacket. “Please don’t hurt me!” you plead, “I..I have a child..” “Yes, I know,” is his response. “-You know?” “I know a great deal of things about you, Mrs. Blackham. But, let’s skip the formalities, Emily.” “Then you know I have a husband and…” “…had  a husband,” he laughed, holding up an open wallet with Stan’s license and cards. “What…What did you do with Stan?” “Nothing much…just sent him over the cliff. Don’t worry, he probably died in that terrible bounce before the river got to him and the car!” You shrank to the floor. He lifted you, piled you onto that sofa, just as he did now. “You know, lady, sometimes working second shift can be as deadly as working third. You never know who you’ll run into. Poor Stan!” You try to rouse yourself from the couch. He pushes you down again. You close your eyes. Reopening them, you see Billy, bound and gagged in the easy chair. Maniacally, you somehow find the power to speak. “Why? Why?...” “Oh, just in the mood for some fun and games, I guess,” is the reply. There is a knock on the door. “Now, who could that be, Emily?” he asks, “Do you usually entertain callers at this time of the evening?” The Landlord. He knows Stan always is home by now. The Rent! “Who is it, Emily?” “The landlord. Rent’s due.” “Now, Emily, this is what I want you to do. I want you to answer that door. Open it just a crack. Stick your head through. Tell him Stan had to work late. Come back tomorrow.” “It won’t work. I always give him a check. Checks can be written with or without Stan.” “Then, go ahead, grab the check. Be quick about it. Remember, I got your son!” One chance! One chance! You sprint into the kitchen, unzip your purse, withdraw the check book. You return. “Remember, I’m the one for the fun and games, not you!” You slip your hand through a narrow crack, handing the paper to the landlord. Billy lets out a muffled scream. Before you can turn, he thrusts you onto the floor, whips out his colt, and fires it into the landlord’s belly, point blank. He drags the body into the room, blood staining the beige carpeting. He rips the paper from the dead man’s grip. A note: “Phone the police. Held captive. Murderer.” “You know, Emily, I’ve stomped on wrists of those who’ve done less than that!” He slaps you hard, on both sides of your face. Drops of blood flow downward. Billy lets out a muted cry. “Go ahead son, go ahead,” he laughs, “Let those emotions out, if you can!” Then, he turns to you again. “Help me drag this corpse to the closet.” You help to grab his feet. Some of his blood flows on your hand. The body is shoved inside, the door slammed. Your tears return, uncontrollably. “You know what happens to hysterical women, don’t you?-They get slapped some more!” You try. You cannot stop. He reaches for his gun once more, slings it briskly through the air, hard by your head. He stops in mid motion. “Awww…Grub! I need grub! Get me something to eat!” “Stan had this week’s groceries stashed in the trunk. All I got are leftovers.’ “Then give me them. Plenty of it!” Then he twirls the gun by Billy’s head. “Remember, I’m the Fun Guy. No games from you! Billy and I will be watching!” You return with his plate of food. He picks up a pork chop, ripping the meat off the bone with his teeth. “Mmmm, mmm,” he mumbles. Next, he finishes the mashed potatoes in three big spoonsful. Then he picks up the coffee cup and takes a sip. “It’s too cold!” he growls. “I didn’t want to burn you!” is your response. “Oh, like this?” he bellows, flinging the coffee on your wrist. The scalding liquid seeps into you, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of whimpering. Billy does the best with his hobbles to stomp his feet. Finished with his meal, he flings the tableware onto the floor. “Now, it’s time for our first game! Aw, you’re gonna love it!” He walks over to Billy. He tears the gag off his mouth. Billy screams. “Aw, c’mon, Billy, don’t’cha want to play? We’ll have a ball!” Then he fixes his gaze on you. “Remember, Emily. Play Fair or end up there!” he jokes, pointing to the closet. “Mom!” Billy shouts. “Sssh…No speaking now unless you have the answer. We’re gonna play “Jeopardy.” Now, some of you may not have heard of this game, so let me point out the rules. Most games have questions and you give the answers. In “Jeopardy,” I give the answer and you give me the question.” He set his watch for one minute. “-Set!-Go!...The Answer is Billy’s dad had to die. Feel free to shout out the question!” Billy cries. You try to appear emotionless, knowing he may have plans for you. But, you are bursting inside. The watch gives off a small chime. “Oh, sorry folks! Well, that was a difficult one! Seeing this is your first time at this game, there are no penalties this time. But, one of you better have the answer next time. Oh, yeah, I’ll tell you the correct question to that one was: “What happened to the man who stole my future?” He hums a little tune. “Okay, your break is over. Next answer-And one of you better have a correct question! Ready: The answer is: Aldo Bertucci.” He hums again. “Remember-I need a question. Quickly! Time’s almost up!” Billy yells out, “Who is a rotten, dirty old stink bag that smells like…” He rises. Before Billy could finish, he slaps him good and hard, causing blood to splatter from his mouth. “Come along, Billy,” he says, untying the rest of the bonds and dragging him to the closet. “No! No!’ you scream, as he points the colt to Billy’s head. Then, he pushes Billy into the closet, slamming the door, this time turning the key by the knob. “Don’t worry, Emily. The games aren’t over yet. A little time in the dark with a corpse’ll do him good. Teach him a lesson he won’t soon forget!” He seems to ponder a moment, then walks over to the sofa, pushing you to one end and sitting beside you. “Of course, Emily, you’ve figured that part out already, haven’t you? I am Aldo Bertucci! The man your husband had fired so he could grab my management position!” “But Stan said, he said…” “He said I was an embezzler. An embezzler and a cheat. Cheating with the boss’s secretary. Now, don’t deny it, Emily,” he says, stroking your chin with a finger. He rises. “Time for our next game, Emily. You better have a response, because now you’re the only player. Truth Or Consequences, I call it!” Setting his watch once more, he sits beside you, stroking your hair. "Now, Emily. Answer this with the Truth!-You knew that was a boldfaced lie, didn’t you?” “No.” He slaps you good and hard. “The Truth, Emily!” You stutter for the words, “Not at first. Then I found out later. When it was too late!” “Oh!” his eyes widen. “So that’s why not so much tearsy weepsy for Stan. Okay, Emily, I believe you. No consequence!” He glances at his watch. “Now, Emily, there’s a bonus question. Answer it truthfully, or…well, you’ll find out!” You do your best to stifle your tears as he is about to set that watch. “You were planning to leave him, possibly kill him yourself, weren’t you, Emily?” “He, he was my husband, my husband of ten years,” you plead. The watch chimes. “Sorry, Emily, that’s not even relevant to the question. Now, it’s your turn to pay up!” He rolls his body onto you, planting kisses over your face, taking liberties you hoped he never would have taken. When it was mercifully over, he plants one more kiss upon you, this time, gently. “Now, Emily, confession is good for the soul. Tell me the truth!” “Yes, YES! I was going to kill him! I WAS GOING TO KILL HIM!!I WAS GOING TO KILL HIM!!!-Please don’t…don’t hurt me any more!” “Now, Emily, now it’s my time to tell the truth! You’re just as guilty as I! Only, only I got there first!” There is a sound of knocking from the other side of the closet door. He fires the colt onto the ceiling. “SHUT UP! BILLY, SHUT UP!!!!!!” “Please let him out!” you beg. “For my love, anything,” he says. He struts over to the closet, turns the key, and lets Billy out. Then he ties Billy once more in the easy chair. “You see, Emily, when you’re nice to me, nice things happen!” A loud knocking at the front door! “More visitors, Emily?” You shake your head in confusion. “I have no idea…” That colt is in the air again. “I want you and Billy to remain perfectly quiet! I still got plenty of bullets!” He creeps to the front door, undoes the latch, opens it a crack. The voice asks, “Mrs. Blackham in?” “Yes, come in,” he says, adding, “…officer!” The policeman steps in quietly. He sees the mother and child bound, goes for his gun. Aldo fires first. “I knew you’d show up once the body was found!” He undoes your ropes once more. “All right, Emily! Time to drag another inside! More a zombie than a human, you rise, grab those feet. You help push the body into the closet. He slams the door, again turning that lock. “Now, Emily,” he laughs, “Now, he’s got company! Some pair of twins!” This time, you pass out on the couch for the night. While you are sleeping, he assures the blinds remain down. Yes, Emily. You’ve awakened. You remember it all. Aldo has allowed you one night of Life. Will it end today? “Emily, my dear!” he says, “While you were in that fake snooze of yours, I checked the fridge. There’s eggs and bacon. Make me some, now!” Then, he added, “Of course, you and the kid can have some, too. Gotta keep up your strength for Game Time!” She cracks the eggs into a bowl and sizzles the bacon. “Tell me, Emily, tell me how you were going to do it...” “Do what?” “Kill him.” “I…I…” “Let me guess, Emily. Rat poison? No, too traceable…Arsenic? No! The smell gives it away! Oh, I know! Can I guess, Emily?” “You seem to be the one making up the rules!” “Okay, Emily. Five’ll getcha a tenski you altered the brakes!” “Is that just a wild guess?” “Oh, I know, Emily! I drove that car to the edge of the cliff myself. That is, after I blew Stan’s brains out. I barely got out alive, myself!” “Let the eggs burn for all I care!” he shouts, pushing you onto the kitchen floor, repeating the tortures of last night. Still on top of you, he screams, “That gigolo of yours-Stan…he was the embezzler, he was the one having the affair! He tore my life away!-And you’re no better than he is!” As he continues to bite into your skin, you struggle to say, “Aldo…please…I never wanted to see an innocent man suffer…” “So, what did you do about it? NOTHING!!!!!!That’s what!!!!!!!!” You stare into those enraged eyes. You still struggle for words. “Oh, Aldo! What can I do? I never meant…” “I’ll tell you what’cha gonna do, Emily. Repeat after me…I…C’mon, Emily, repeat after me…I…” “I…” “…killed Stan!” “…killed Stan!” “Louder, Emily! I can hardly hear you!” “I KILLED STAN! I KILLED STAN! I KILLED STAN!” “Good show, Emily! Now, for the Bonus Round! You’re going to shout it, as loud as you can, from the front porch!” He yanks you towards the door. As he unbolts and opens it, a shot is fired, narrowly missing him. He slams the door shut. “I wondered when they would show up! Pretty slow for them screws who just lost one of their buddies!” He yanks you over to the closet and again, pushes you inside. Then he unties Billy, also pushing him inside. “Now, be valiant for once in your life and protect your son!” he whispers. Then, he unlatches the front door and dashes outside, slamming but not locking it. There are repeated gunshots. Voices crying out. Then, silence. Thanking God for her life and that of her son, she opens the closet door. “C’mon, Billy. It’s all over now!” Footsteps from the porch. The front door smashes against the wall. It’s him! “Come and help me again, Emily,” he says, “We got three more bodies for the closet!” Recognized Author Notes

© Copyright 2024. jim vecchio All rights reserved. jim vecchio has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.