Bludgeoning

She hoisted the sledgehammer into the air, the weak and aching muscles in her limbs protesting. Eight pounds of steel had turned to 100 pounds–her arms trembled from the amount of effort it took to wield the weapon. Her breath was ragged, sweat beading on her brow and running down her chin. She was in danger of dropping the damn thing down on herself but she couldn’t be deterred.

This would show the bastard.

Thump, the thing came down, delivering another crushing blow. Brains splattered her already soiled shoes and pant legs. Guts and innards catapulted up, splattering her face and chest–good thing she’d worn an apron. Things were really getting messy.

Some pulverized bits of flesh were ground into the basement floor–even the concrete beneath was cracked from the relentless force of the steel head.

Goddamn bastard. Look what he’d made her do. 

She lifted with a huff; the double-face glinting with a savage glimmer from the light of the one bulb hanging overhead.

Goddamn you! She seethed inwardly. Oxygen was too scarce to waste on words. Goddamn you!

Thump.

This time the concrete fractured completely–bits and pieces breaking away–intestines blended with the grey powder that had once been her floor.

When her arms refused to move another inch, she dropped the head down beside her feet and rested her arms on the end of the handle admiring her handy work as she breathed raggedly, forcing as much air into her deprived lungs and muscles as she possibly could. When she’d finally gathered enough strength to move again, she wiped an arm across her forehead, sweat blending with the sticky goo coating her skin. Bracing a hand on one knee, she leaned down to sift through what remained of the carcass.

Yes, she’d done well.

“Another one bites the dust,” she chuckled aloud on a heavy breath speaking to no one in particular as she took another pumpkin and set it before her mighty hammer, imagining the face of her husband.

They’d carved the damned things together and he’d had the nerve to say his were better. She’d show him.

“You think my pumpkin doesn’t look scary?” She shouted in the empty space. “How’s this for scary?” And she brought the head down, relishing the sound of heavy steel piercing flesh and shattering the Jack-o-Lantern, destroying its perfectly sculpted smile.

She cackled maniacally as she brought the hammer down again and again. “Happy Halloween, bitch!”

 

Bludgeon

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s