A random assortment of stories today, including a story I dusted off from the vault. Enjoy.
Sweet Violets
Purple violets covered his grave. I smiled.
An explosion of vivid colour, where once there had been upturned earth; nature had reclaimed his resting place. The universe conspired with me to hide my secret: that I murdered him.
I shot my louse of a husband and buried him in the forest. He deserved it and I’m not sorry.
He never expected it—I was always such a meek person—but sometimes, even the meek get pushed too far. I picked up his gun and shot him in the head.
Now he’s fertilizer for the flowers.
And the best part, he always hated violets.
POV of Pavlov’s Dog
Oh the bells, those damnable bells!
I hear them as I sleep, a mocking echo of my waking hours, and I salivate, dreaming of food.
It is his doing, my so-called master, his experiments, that have warped my sensibilities so. I hate him, yet… his bells bring me sustenance, a place to belong. I am entwined in his world too much to escape.
Oh, how I long to sink my teeth into his throat and end my torment. Would his death release me? Would the echo of the bells continue? Shall I hear them until the end of my days?
The Salesman
From the dark recesses of her office, where she tippy taps on her keyboard, Annabelle hears knocking…
“Who is that gently rapping, rapping at my front door? ‘Tis some visitor, only this and nothing more.”
Annabelle peers past her curtain, yet uncertain, to spy upon her step a hockey masked man, wielding knife in hand.
“This sight thrills me—fills me with fantastic terrors never felt before.” Yet she rises, walks, and opens the front door.
The man smiles and speaks, “Knives I bring, my only stock and store. A onetime offer, then it shall be gone. Seen nevermore. Nevermore.”
Be Afraid of the Dark 
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