INVISIBLE WOUNDS: By Joshua Scribner
Monday, May 3rd, 2010Joe sat downstairs, in the family room, using his laptop to roam the internet, thinking about which was a better song, “Sympathy for the Devil” or “Question.” It seemed like good enough a thing to think about.
Amy came down the stairs, didn’t look at him, sat at the PC, said, “I want you to hear this song. A guy at work turned me onto it. I can’t get it out of my head.”
“Okay,” Joe replied.
Amy played it. A man sang in a distorted voice. It wasn’t a bad tune, kind of bluesy. The lyrics were very hard to decipher, and Joe was surprised Amy liked it.
Amy tried to force a casual expression. “It’s called ‘Grounds for Divorce.’”
That helped make sense of everything. Had the cycle shifted? He thought it probably had.
#
Joe woke up late the next day and trudged down the hall, thinking of which was a better song, “The Pot,” or “Falling Away.” It seemed like good enough a thing to think about. He saw his daughters on the living room couch. They wore frowns like weights.
“Mom’s in a bad mood,” said Randi, the younger, but bolder one.
Joe sighed. “Where is she?”
“Downstairs.”
Joe aimed himself toward the steps, but on the way, looked by the backdoor. Nothing was there yet.
He found Amy at the PC, talking into her cell phone. She looked at him with utter disappointment and said, “Gotta go. I’ll call you later, and we can all hang out.”
She looked away from him, placed the phone on the desk and swiped at the monitor screen. “There’s so much dust. It’s no wonder I’m always coughing.”
Joe sat. “Going out with friends tonight?”
“Oh yeah,” she said in a voice thick with spite.
“People from work?”
“Yup. I got to get out of here.”
Joe nodded, though she wasn’t looking at him. He just sat there for a while, thinking if there was something he could say, something that would get him out of what he had to do, but knowing there probably wasn’t.
Amy smirked.
Joe said nothing, refusing to take the bait.
After a few seconds, Amy giggled.
He gave in, just as he always did. “What?”
“Oh, I was just thinking about a couple of things people told me at work. Kendra said if my hair gets any brighter, I’ll be cuter than Britney Spears. Chuck said my butt look so good he could eat off it.”
Joe fought back a sigh. “Getting a lot of complements?”
“Oh yeah, a ton. Some for my work and some for my appearance.”
“Good. You deserve it in both regards.”
Amy was silent for a while. He didn’t think she knew how to handle his comment. She finally said, “How are Randi’s grades?”
“Down,” Joe responded. “But acceptable.”
Amy sighed. “I don’t know why I ask. I don’t want to think about that. Nor do I want to think about how filthy this house is. I just want to think about going out tonight.”
Joe thought of telling her about how he’d done five loads of laundry, dusted and vacuumed all of the floors within the last two days. He knew it would do no good. He stood, then crept upstairs. The shadow waited at the back door.
Joe nodded, and it, having human form, nodded back.
“How long?” Joe whispered.
It raised two fingers.
“Weeks?”
It shook its head.
“Months?”
It nodded.
Joe cringed. That was too long to bear. He had to stop her. He held out his arm. The shadow ran a hand over it. All of the scars came into view. The shadow brought down its head and took a big chunk of flesh.
Joe managed not to scream outward, but screamed inside. The shadow moved its hand over his appendage, and the damage was no longer visible. He just felt it.
The shadow went out the back door.
“Everything okay now?” said Randi from behind him. She had never said as much, but he suspected she could see the entity too.
“Yes,” Joe responded. “Fine.”
He went downstairs, found Amy crying.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Chuck just sent me a mean instant message.” Amy got up and ran into his arms. “I just want to stay here tonight. You guys will be nice to me.”
“Of course we will,” Joe responded, feeling her press against the newest invisible wound.
He thought of which he liked better, “Life Wasted,” or “Heart Shaped Box.”
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©2010 Lori Titus
Joshua Scribner is the author of the novels Mantis Nights, The Coma Lights and Nescata. His fiction won both second and fifth place in the 2008 Whispering Spirits Flash Fiction contest. Up to date information on his work can be found at joshuascribner.com. Joshua currently lives in Michigan with his wife and two daughters.