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Rated: ASR · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #2229497
Revenge is as sweet as an ear of corn


*Corn* *Corn* *Corn* *Corn* *Corn* *Corn* *Corn* *Corn* *Corn*

"Do you think it is justice I seek? Ah...most definitely not... it is so much more. It is the bacon-wrapped, triple-spiced, mother-of-all emotional- reckoning that calls me!"

"Please, let me go. I was never going to hurt you. It was just a game, like, just a way to kill time. It was never anything... personal."

I could feel the gurgle in my throat that spewed out almost as a giggle. I didn't own the sound. It just erupted as an unscripted happening. My victim looked minuscule, so very tiny in the leather harness that held him. As he squirmed from heat of the fire below him and the pain inflicted by the ropes, it thrilled me. He whimpered like a child caught in his misbehavings, but it was so much more. Finally, after months of feeling nothing but terror, I felt the shifting of power. This sweat-dribbling, twitching piece of flesh would pay for his crimes.

Visions of the horror the coward had inflicted upon me flashed through my mind. .It had all started with a phone call and the chillingly, evil words he spoke, "I see your nakedness. I am stalking you every movement and I am present with every breath you take." With the first call, he managed to expose and isolate me. He began making the same calls two or three times a week. Then the letters started arriving with details of my life. He mentioned things like my needing milk in the fridge or that my pictures were due to be picked up at the Walmart photo counter. He began sending random photos of me living my life. On the edge of panic I was afraid to leave the apartment, or even go to work. It was a rape without penetration.

I did what I was taught to do. I called the police and filled out the obligatory report. I was diligent in turning over every shred of evidence. Their good old boy message was clear, if left unspoken, I was somehow responsible for enticing my stalker. It left me feeling violated all over again.

The last photo stirred me to action. It was a blurry picture of me stepping out of the shower. I was bare except the for the striped bath towel on my head.. Rage induced me to hire a private detective. He would stalk my stalker. It took less than one week.

I said, "No worries, it's all just a game." He began to shake violently. I was in control again.

"Do you like corn?" I asked.

"What?" he sniveled.

"I brought a bushel and a peck. You shouldn't mess with farm girls. It doesn't suit our fancy!"

The coward screamed a horrendously deafening yelp as the first ear penetrated his cavern. Blood spurted from his anus like a volcano. He fainted from the pain, but I was quick to revive him.

"Now this is what you call being stalked!" And I finally owned the laughter that followed.

500 words

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