“The way I see it, your life is my property,” said Mitch, staring up at the newspaper clippings. He would never forget that day, couldn’t forget that day.

“Please, this is crazy,” said the man, staring at Mitch from behind the metal bars.

Mitch didn’t look at him, just kept studying the old papers stapled to the wall. His hand reached up and scratched his mangled cheek.

“I have money, lots and lots of money,” said the man, pleading with Mitch.

“Money is meaningless now,” said Mitch, finally directing his eyes toward the man, “maybe at one time, but not anymore.”

The man breathed deeply, staring at Mitch with a helpless look. Tears began running down his face, his lip quivering as he began to speak again.

“What did I do? Why am I here?”

“It’s not what you did, but what you failed to do.”

Mitch directed his attention back to the wall, a clipping showing a person wrapped in bandages caught his attention. He reached up and touched the image, his face grimacing. He slowly turned his head back to his prisoner.

“All I ever wanted was to help people, you know that?” he said, his hand still on the picture, “ever since I was a kid.”

He ripped the clipping from the wall, trudged toward the cage, and tossed it in.

“Pick it up and take a look.”

He did as he was instructed, shaking his head as he stared at the photo.

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t.”

Mitch reached into the cage and snatched back the paper.

“They told me I was a real hero.”

“Look, this has nothing to do with me. You have to let me go.”

“This has everything to do with you, don’t you see?”

The man pressed his body against the metal, reaching out to Mitch. His voice cracked between words as he spoke.

“Please tell me what I did, I want to resolve this.”

Mitch laughed as he stuck the paper back to the wall. He tore another from the collage and walked toward the man. Again, he tossed the photo into the cage.

“You recognize that building?”

“I know this building burned down. Just because I lived there doesn’t mean I had anything to do with it!”

“I could care less how that fire started, that is irrelevant.”

“Then why do you have me here?”

“I rescued six people that day. They told me I was crazy, but I couldn’t give up.”

“Wait, are you saying what I think you are?”

“I pulled you from your apartment. You were unconscious when I found you. Smoke was everywhere.”

“You saved my life, I owe everything-”

“Shut your fucking mouth, don’t start with that!”

The prisoner quieted, staring up at the mutilated man.

“The ceiling collapsed on me when I was bringing out the last. Just a kid, maybe six or seven, her family forgot she was asleep in her room.”

Mitch paced the room, all the while scratching his face.

“She didn’t make it. She died in my arms while I was burning alive. Everybody thought I was dead already.”

Mitch grabbed something from the ground and began walking toward the cage again. The smooth skin of his face was glistening in the light.

As Mitch approached the cage, the man realized what was in his grasp. He jumped up, ramming his body against the back of the cage, trying to put as much distance as possible.

“Look, I’m sorry for what happened. Don’t do this!”

“While I was lying in the hospital, I kept wondering what I was gonna do. They told me that my insurance was refusing to pay, that I had no business running back into a burning building, can you believe that?”

“That’s terrible, nobody should go through that.”

“My thoughts exactly. So I wrote letters, wrote them everyday. I sent at least three to you, did you get em?”

The man’s brow furrowed as he dug into his memory. He slightly recalled getting letters in the mail, but couldn’t remember exactly what they said.

“I-I can’t remember.”

Mitch splashed the contents from his jug into the cage, drenching the man from top to bottom.

“Stop, please stop! I’ll do anything, just stop!”

“I begged for help, couldn’t figure who else to turn to. I figured if nobody in the world wanted to help me, at least six people would. But I was wrong.”

More splashes of liquid, the smell stinging their nostrils.

“What can I do to fix this? I can give you anything you want!”

“I lost everything, my job, my home, all of my belongings. I gave up my life so you people could go on with yours, and for what?”

“Because you are a good man.”

“Maybe I used to be, until I saw how things really are. I never got anything back from any of you, not one fucking letter.”

The empty jug hit the floor, bouncing on the ground in front of the cage. Mitch reached into his pocket for his matchbook.

“You let me outta here God damn it! I’m sorry!”

“I’m not going to kill you. I’m just taking back what I gave you.”

“Don’t do this!”

“You would be dead already if it wasn’t for me. The second I needed some help, all was forgotten. Is that how it works?”

“I admit it, I fucked up. I promise I’ll change, anything you say, just let me out.”

“That’s funny, that’s what the rest of them said, that they would change. It’s really easy to change when it’s forced on you, isn’t it?”

His face lit up as he ran the match across the rough edge, his skin wrinkled and shiny.

“No! Don’t do it, please!”

As the match bounced on the floor of the metal cage, Mitch remembered the little girl. He wondered how different things would be if he had grabbed her first, left the rest of them to burn.

—
©2009 Shane McKenzie

“I am a 26 year old that lives with his fiance and two dogs in Austin, TX. I work for the police department as a 911 call taker. I eat, drink, and breathe horror, have been this way since I can remember.”

He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t explain it, that feeling he got. The shiny blade of the knife slid down the flesh with ease, staining the surrounding fur a bright red. She struggled, her arms and legs pulled outward by fishing line. He loved to keep them alive, loved to watch them slowly slip away as he studied their anatomy.

“Yeeeow,” she screamed, spitting and hissing at him.

He continued to pull the blade downward, almost like unzipping a zipper. He giggled to himself at the strange noises emitting from his victim. He pulled a nail from between his lips, using it to stake one corner of the peeled flesh to the table. The other three nails did the same, displaying the slimy interior like an open book.

“Mrrr.”

The sounds she was making were getting quieter, her struggling getting weaker. He used his finger to prod at the still beating heart. It pumped more rapidly as he fondled it, then slowed down until finally stopping. He looked back at her face and it was motionless.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, stroking her head. She was so pretty now, much prettier than before.

A light tapping at the window made him jump, dropping the knife to clatter to the floor. Another beauty was looking in at him through the glass, her green eyes were hypnotizing.

“Just give me a minute to finish up,’ he said, smiling up at her, “you will get your turn.”

She seemed to be staring down at her fallen sister, then jumped down and vanished. He couldn’t help but feel a bit of a loss, hoping she would come back again.

He took out his scissors, and began cutting away his favorite bits. He loved adding to his collection, loved seeing them all together, like a happy family. It filled him with pride as he looked up at the cloudy jars.

He was dropping the pieces into an empty container, the formaldehyde stinging his nostrils. Every so often, he would stop what he was doing to stroke her head. She was just so beautiful.

He looked up at the shelves, wondering where the perfect place would be for this new addition. A sense of joy filled him as he circled the room, admiring his work. He had to watch his step, the shriveled bodies of the others were scattered here and there. He just couldn’t make himself part from them, they were just too perfect. Besides, his favorite parts were preserved and on display for him.

Another light tapping on the window, the glass screaming as something sharp was dragged across its surface. Butterflies were fluttering in his stomach as he saw more little beauties staring in at him. There were so many of them, they were standing on top of each other to get a look into the room.

“Hello little darlings,” he said as he beamed up at them. He watched as more and more of them jumped onto the windowsill, staring down at the open corpse within. They all turned their heads toward him, hissing and pawing at the glass.

“Don’t be upset, she is so much better this way,” he said out loud, looking down at his newest victim.

A loud crash echoed through the room as the spectators poured in through the jagged window frame. They landed with ease, immediately making their way towards him. Loud yowling was filling the room as they approached him. He couldn’t count how many there were, more jumping in to join the protest. Some of them were walking by his collection, knocking over jars to explode onto the floor.

“No!” he yelled, kneeling down to scoop up the remains. He couldn’t bear to part with them, his fingers bleeding from the broken glass. He couldn’t keep up with the chaos as more and more of his treasures were demolished.

“Stop, please stop!”

There was a gathering of them on his table, licking the open wounds of their motionless sister. They kept looking up at him, their accusing eyes sending a shiver down his spine.

As more of his possessions were shattering around him, he realized that a large group of them were walking toward him. He screamed as one of them pounced onto his shoulder, raking her claws across the soft flesh of his neck. She was tossed onto the ground, only to land upright and join the others in their pursuit.

A bright shiny knife was lying on the counter just beside him. He equipped himself with it, swiping the air hoping to intimidate them. They took no notice to his threats, quickening their trot toward him.

They hit him like a tidal wave, their weight dragging him down to the ground. The metal of the knife found its target a few times, causing them to scream out. Warm blood was sprinkling onto his face as he kept jabbing with his weapon. He could feel them tearing at his skin, their claws shredding his clothing to get to the flesh beneath.

As suddenly as it all began, it ceased. He wondered if he was dead, drifting into the afterlife. His eyes flickered open to see that he was still surrounded, their large eyes staring down at him. There was something crawling onto his groin, making its way up his torso.

He shrieked as his latest experiment padded toward his head, her hanging entrails leaving a bloody trail on his body. She reached his neck, and sat down, staring down at him. The rest of them were walking back and forth, waiting for the grand finale.

He couldn’t help but admire her beauty.

—
©2009 Shane McKenzie