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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2004378-A-Happy-Family
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #2004378
Ever smelled death? A spooky story inspired by a smile. We'll be happy together.
A Happy Family


By


Casthavian


Author's note october 2020: this was written before the 'reform' of my story. The events in this ss do not take place in the actual story and Allie's appearance no longer matches her current description.


It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon; the sun was bright and shining upon the country and without a single cloud to be seen. Allie was having a nice walk in the park with her friends. She was a beautiful girl with hazel eyes and chocolate brown hair waving and floating down her back. She wore her torn jeans perfectly. And she was smiling, always smiling. The girl anyone would want as a friend as she always could lend a shoulder to cry on. Sometimes literally. A good soul, she was. And no one or anything at all could ruin this day, for she only just graduated. Her friends and she had planned to celebrate this event during the evening. She’d just recently turned 19 as she had taken a year off to care for her sick granny. And then she was going back to school for the next year at University. She’d perhaps enjoy some nurse studies. Or why not trying out as a doctor? She has the good grades, after all, a very good student.

And so the friends all sat down in the smooth green grass, welcoming the sunlight on their skin. Ah, the joy of sunbathing, right? As they were setting down their little snacks and a bagful of sodas, Allie took off for a minute; she had to go the bathroom. There was a small market only two minutes away by foot. She knew the place so well; there was no way at all she could’ve gotten lost. So she went. And that moment as she stood up, was the last time her friends ever saw her again. And that morning as she went off with her best friends was the last time her dear mother and father and little sister ever saw her smile again.

Along the path, the young woman would meet a man who would seal her fate in the tall grass.

“Oh, please! Please, help me…I’ve twisted an ankle, and I can’t carry all my stuff to my car!” he cried out at her with a smooth honeyed voice. He was pretty cute, she thought. Dark hair, pale eyes and a childish smile. About twenty eight and five foot eleven at the most.
She couldn’t just walk away from that little sweetheart, could she? The look on his face could tell the poor boy was in pain. He was acting like such a pained child, you see, it kind of broke her heart right on the spot. So she simply nodded and smiled at him. Poor thing, Allie always had so much pity for people in pain. Then it will be the nurse studies.
“Why, yes, of course! Let me help you.” she replied. Picking up his stuff, a backpack, books and a lunch box, she gladly followed his limping pace to a bright little Bug. That seemed downright adorable to her. Once they were both there, she opened the passenger’s door, dropped the man’s belongings inside the car, and as she was turning back to him, was thanked by a wooden baseball bat to the brain. She fell unconscious right away.


The sunlight was still shining upon his face when he took his usual path leading to his shack, much, much farther, hidden from all eyes, into the deep thick woods. His fingers were waving against the tender tall grass, stroking it with the smoothest of touches. He so liked the feeling on his skin. Was a grass kink, perhaps? His pace was slow. Deep in thoughts, he was dragging the girl’s weak body behind him, her face covered in dirt. She wasn’t dead yet, but she would soon wish she was.
It was almost night fall when he finally reached the small wooden house. He didn’t live there, but others did. Others like her, like Allie. They all were a happy family. They used to have dinner together at least twice a week, and he would cook for them as he enjoyed their company a lot. They were nice friends to him. Oh yes, such loyal friends, they wouldn’t ever leave him. Allie’s body was dragged inside; her smooth face scrapping against the floor. It was made out of rotten wood planks, as if none had cared for it in a long, long time.


That was when she finally woke up. Her eyes fluttered, chasing the dirt off black painted eyelashes and eyebrows frowning at the pain to her head. A thin rope of blood was hanging on her bottom lip, holding on tight to her lipstick. Her forehead was also damp with the same blood, almost smearing like sweat. Her hands were tied up to a scabrous rope knotted somewhere at the roof. Where on Earth was she? She’d remember to never go to the bathroom again. But since she didn’t go, she had to keep her legs together in order not to pee herself. Her painful moans dragged mister’s attention back to her. And he smiled. It was so genuine, she thought. Why would such a charming man do such a thing to her? It just made no sense at all. The room was dark, only the dim light of a single candle could illuminate his face as he stood up from what seemed to be a table and approached Allie. His hand lifted up to her face to give her cheek a gentle stroke.

“Shhh.” he said with his smooth, gentle voice. “I am not going to hurt you, now why would I? We will be a happy family…” His smile suddenly turned into the smile of a snake, the scent of venom filling her nostrils, and she turned her head away. But the snake’s hand would only force her again to look into his bright cyan hues. She wouldn’t speak a word, that would anger him, she thought. She only kept shaking and heavily breathing, for she was terrified. So young to die. And what if he was actually a priest coming to collect sins? That one time with the quarterback didn’t count, she mentally cursed. But what a stupid idea, indeed.

The snake turned his back on her, slowly, as if he had all the time in the world and walked with his silent pace to a rusty oven. She couldn’t get a good look at it all, but her eyes, slowly adapting to the dim light, could grasp some more details, and she noticed the table. It was rather long, rotten like the floor but still solid. Her eyes widened as they caught sight of the seven or eight shapes surrounding it. People? Real people? She wanted to scream to the top of her lungs, but she wouldn’t dare. Not even a whisper. The shack was too quiet, and she was such a brilliant girl. Saving her life was worth the wait for a better solution.

And there he was, cooking. Maybe not the best chef, but still pretty good seeing as he lived alone, with no wife or children. Then who was he cooking for? It smelled like death. There was the distinct scent of meat underneath it, but the odour of putrefaction was much too strong. And it made her panic. Or gag. Or maybe both, after all. Her breath became raspier and quicker, her hands moving and trying to untie themselves. The oddly smiling man poured a mixture, maybe a stew, into several bowls and started serving one bowl after the other on his rotten table. There was even one for Allie. His white toothed smile lifted back to her.

“You’re part of the family, now…You’ll be our little Alice.” No, her actual name was Allie. But she didn’t remember telling him about that. Wait… Was he naming her like we name dolls? He then, out of the blue, untied her wrists, took her right hand and guided her to her rightful place at the table. The scent of death became so heavy and intense she had to tightly shut her mouth and swallow in order not to vomit. What was in that stew? The cook sat down just in front of her, meeting her terrified hazel eyes with his own. And then he started introducing each and every member of his family to her. They didn’t stir one inch, nor make a sound. She wouldn’t hear their breaths; she couldn’t feel their gazes on her. George. Abigail. She was looking about in terror, the sound of her own frightened inhaling filling her ears. Natalie. Robert. The nails of her fingers, which were clenching, were digging holes in the table’s wood. Emma. Aurora. And the last one was Ash. A girl with her mouth wide open, the corners of her mouth sewed up to her ears. A terrifying smile for her gray skin and empty eyes. Yet she had magnificent golden hair. Brushed and maintained like a porcelain doll. She could see them now, just as they were, as a horde of corpses rotting on their seats and falling to pieces, smiling at each other with their sewed smiles. A smile on their faces forever. Even death couldn’t take their happiness away, even though their eyes had long turned white, empty of all expression and even started to melt down.

A needle and a bit of thread were waiting right in the middle of the table.

“Welcome to our happy family.”



1560 words.
© Copyright 2014 Casthavian (casthavian at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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