STORY STARTER
Submitted by chiyo 📄🤍
“Gosh, I have to stop getting blood all over these hardwood floors…”
Write a short story which contains this line.
Moving Day
“Gosh, I have to stop getting blood all over these hardwood floors.”
Jonathon looked skeptically at his sister, ceaselessly scrubbing the kitchen floors all the while. She says this every week but still, she can’t rid herself of this terrible habit. There is a finesse to choosing the right vessel, and Sarah has never honed the skill that the rest of their family has. The last body they had to burn smelled horridly, and Jonathon needed to dispose of his favorite sweater right after.
“Maybe if you weren’t so impatient, you wouldn’t make such a mess.” Jonathon said, wringing out reddened water. Sarah pouted and put her hands on her hips.
“Well _maybe _if I had a little help once in a while I wouldn’t feel the need to speed up the timeline.” Her new body still hung awkwardly around her frame, like a coat she hasn’t grown into. Jonathon poked her in the arm and the dehydrated skin stayed indented. He snorted, and Sarah slapped his hand away indignantly. “_Stop that,” _she hissed.
Her brother rolled his eyes and poked her again, this time on the nose which threatened to fall off, flesh hanging and shredded in a goopy mess like curdled cheese. “You really did a number on this one.” Sarah quickly gripped her nose just in time to save it from detaching completely. “What a mess…” he trailed off, mockingly tsking as he dodged a seering right hook that whistled past his cheek.
“You are such an ass.” Sarah said, bending down to roll up her previous skin. Her soft, pale fingers ghosted over the brunette hair that peeked out the top of the worn carpet. “I’m gonna miss this one,” she lamented, and Jonathon couldn’t resist scoffing in disbelief. She couldn’t wait to get rid of it a mere three hours ago, and now he had to hear her _missing _the damn thing.
This is why he waits at least a year before looking for a new vessel. It takes time to acclimate, to feel at home under its nail beds and veins and organs. Humans never think about how squishy they are with all the fat and tissue hugging their bones. And it does take some getting used to, but Sarah has never understood that. She’d rather run the bodies ragged week by week. At this rate, she’ll never feel comfortable in the skins she chooses.
Jonathon helps his sister drag the body outside to the fields. He thinks the vessel’s name was Gina? Or maybe Julia? Either way, no one will be looking for her anytime soon: One of the perks in choosing one whose neighbors live five miles away. No one to hear the screams that echoed through the night, no one to see the growing fire reaching towards the dawning day.
They drag the body into a haystack, and Sarah lights a match, throwing it without a second thought and walking away without looking back. Jonathon stays and watches it burn. This is his favorite part, afterall. The smoky scent of burning skin makes his mouth water, and saliva dribbles down his chin as he reminisces on its succulent taste.
Back before they realized they could extend their stay and even more by wearing the humans rather than eating them, he and his family would hunt the little villages nestled on the seaside’s country. He remembered the chewiness of their tendons, the crunch of their bones. His favorite part was the toes, as he would pop them off fresh and pop them in his mouth one by one, relishing in the still flowing blood that rushed out the appendage. Good times.
He turned away from the diminished hay, and wiped his mouth with his new sweater. Now that the messy part was done, they had to load the rest of the furniture out of the truck. Afterwards Sarah would want to take a look around town and will probably drag him with her.
Jonathon sighed. It was a long drive back to SoHo and he had work the next day. He cracked his back and prepared its bones for some heavy lifting. Moving Day was a bitch, so they’d better hurry this up.