This is just a little something I wrote in the back of my English jotter when I was supposed to be doing an essay.
The flies and mosquitos hummed around the room. They crawled around the dead body and fought over the prized spot on the old lady's eye balls. Insects covered most of the carcass; they crawled under and over her clothes and played in her hair. A few rats thumped around in the corner of the room, they appeared out from under the blankets on the bed and disappeared through the holes in the mattress. They gnawed on the carcass, squabbling over the cold, stale intestines. They squeaked and snapped at each other, the victor dived into the woman's insides and the loser scampered away over the dusty, bare floorboards.
The ground began to shake. The rats retreated under the furniture and the insects took flight or scuttled away through the gaps between the floorboards. The boards began to crack and rupture, chunks of floor fell into the hole what was quickly forming. The rats squeaked in freight and hurriedly scurried under the rotten door, taking flakes of sickly yellow, mouldy paint with them. A few scampered up the curtains and slipped out the broken window.
The hole in the floor was still steadily growing. A few locks of blonde hair became visible, twirling and dancing with the rumbling movements. A silver blade appeared next, glinting in the musky light. A young couple were raising from the ground, a woman with long blonde locks and a silvery sward raised, ready to defend. A man stood back-to-back with her, he wore black-out sunglasses and a green bomber jacket. "Well. This is scintillating," he grumbled.
He went to search the house, and left her standing in the bedroom. She watched the hole in the floor close up, leaving only the scars on the floorboards. She stepped over the woman's carcass, avoiding looking at her face. Her fingers traced the edges of the cold, dusty dresser. She opened the pot drawer and pulled out a framed photograph, a young dark haired girl grinning widely; standing beside an old-fashioned tractor. She laid it on the counter and continued raiding the drawer. She pushed hair clips and old photographs of the way. She found a brown paper envelop; it was addressed "gran". She prised open the envelope and a letter fell out. She picked it up and started to read, "Gran, Alice has learned to walk! She is now waddling around the house, knocking things over and spilling things. She loved tipping the CD rack and scattering them all over the floor. But she's too cute to stay angry at. And dad bought us a puppy! His name is Drogan and he's a chocolate Labrador. I'm training him; already he can sit, lie down and is toilet trained. Alice loves him; she gives him kisses and cuddles all the time. It's adorable. I think she misses mum, but she's a bit young yet to really understand. I still can't believe Tanith would kill my mum. She was like a sister to me; I would have trusted her with anything. Skulduggery has been trying to find her, but even after everything she has done I care for her and don't want him to kill her. Ghastly is heart-broken, he really loved Tanith. At first he had refused to believe it was her who killed my mum but her sward was found at the crime scene, dripping with blood. Somebody told me she had had the remnant removed. I guess he lied. Anyway, I look forward to seeing you at Christmas. Be safe, love, Val xxx"
She slipped the letter inside her coat pocket. She picked up the photograph again, now realising it was her best friend, Valkyrie Cain. Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill over.
She wondered through the house, lots of things had been eaten by rats, mice and moths. She seen the man she had come with standing in the kitchen, looking through drawers and cupboards. He turned when he heard her step on a creaking floorboard. "Hey, any luck?" She shook her head. She took the car keys off the countertop, enclosing them in her fist so they didn't rattle. "I'm just going to get some fresh air, it stinks in here." She zipped up her jacket.
"Sure Tee, I'll be out soon, I'm almost done. Wait for me outside." She nodded and headed towards the door, running her fingernail over the keys in her hand.
The air was hot and dry. Dust blew around in clouds around the yard which was the old cottage and a few sheds arranged in a horse-shoe shape. A dead, rotting cow lay in a field behind the house. She looked around and spotted an old, Chevrolet pick-up truck sitting amongst the weeds and long grass beside a barn. The red paint was peeling and flaking from the heat. She fought her way to the truck. She tried the door and it swung open smoothly. She took a moment to admire the condition of the interior. The wood panelling had been polished to a shine and leather gleamed. Inside, the old Chevy looked like it had just been driven out of the show room. The old truck had obviously been someone's pride and joy.
She shoved the key into the ignition and twisted it. The engine turned over and roared to life. That familiar V8 burble filled the space inside the cab. She settled into the comfy leather seat and shoved her foot down on the clutch, then she lifted her foot and slowly the engine noise got louder. She stamped on the accelerator and the truck lurched forwards. It sailed over the long grasses and flew over the dusty yard. She jerked the steering wheel to the right and a shed sailed past the windows.
Hope you enjoyed reading this. Please review and say if you think I should continue it or not.
~Skylair xoxo