The Piece Keeper
An all new piece of short horror fiction I wrote recently for you to check out and enjoy
I've got an all new short horror story for you to check out today. I actually just wrote this one a couple of months ago. It was featured in an anthology, but since leaving that project I wanted to make sure everybody got to read this story. I had a really fun time writing this one. Especially the part where my character creepily sings the ABC's. That was just fun. This story does get a bit bloody and violent, so be warned. Otherwise, I hope you will check it out, and enjoy. Thanks so much.
The Piece Keeper
By Matthew R. Taylor
The bar was loud and annoying. I guess kids nowadays would call it a club. The wording didn't matter. Whatever you called it it was the same. EDM music, somehow not classified as techno, too much base giving you a headache, and lots of loud drunk people. Everyone crammed together. Some people dancing, if you could call it that. It was basically just grinding on each other, but most packed around the bar. The thick scent of sour sweat, cheap perfume or cologne, and alcohol invading your nose. I hated these places. I hated the noise, I hated the claustrophobic suffocation of the crowd, and the entire scene.
Despite my hatred, I found myself crammed into another one of those bars. The floor gross and making my shoes stick, some asshole elbowing me hard in the ribs as I tried to get to the bar, and a drunk annoying woman to my left nonstop chattering. At least I think she was talking. It was hard to tell over the annoying thump thump thump of the music. Pressing forward, I finally reached the bar, and shouted my order at the bartender, who may or may not have even heard me. It was hard to tell. Cementing myself in place, solidifying my spot at the bar, I surveyed my surroundings. Tacky shit adorned the walls, the lights that actually functioned flashed along with the beat of the music, and the back wall of the bar was a C of bottles. Your standard bar you'd find anywhere. Nothing special. Nothing unique. But that wasn't why I was here. The decor, the lighting, the music, or the bar itself wasn't significant to me. I didn't really care. The location could change any second and it wouldn't matter. I didn't come to these places for the atmosphere.
My eyes expertly scanned the crowd around me. Searching, seeking. Nothing so far. If there had been, my eyes would've caught it. I had become an expert at this. Skills honed and practiced. But thus far, nothing. I'd probably need to move to a different spot in the bar. That thought gave me anxiety. Another fight through the crowd. But I needed to keep looking. Turning back to the bar, I noticed no drink in front of me. Figures, I thought.
Forgetting about the drink, I turned away from the bar, and began to force my way through the crowd. I think at one point I spilled a woman's drink all down the front of her, but if she even noticed, she didn't say anything. I pressed harder, finally escaping the mass of people, and making my way to a less populated area of the bar. Over here there was breathing room. The music was still loud and annoying, but now you at least had space for your own arms. I instantly began scanning everybody around me. No, no, no, and no. Prospects were starting to look thin. Maybe tonight wasn't my night. I would be disappointed, but resolved to find someone a different night. I made my way across the back of the bar towards the restrooms, when I stopped in my tracks. Bingo, I thought. No more than ten feet in front of me was a beautiful blonde. Gorgeous, curvy, and just my kind of woman. Beauty aside, she had exactly what I was looking for. On her left shoulder blade, exposed by the thin spaghetti strap top she wore, was the beautifully colored tattoo of a jaguar. The big cat looked angry and ferocious as its claws seemed to dig into her skin. Probably supposed to imply power or some other bullshit like that. There were always a thousand different excuses why someone inked their skin. I gave a shit about none of them. She was why I'd come out tonight. She was why I'd dealt with this shitty bar and all of the idiots crammed into it. Her, and her tattoo.
I casually made my way over to her. Interjecting myself into the conversation she was having with some smug looking asshole. Eventually I had her complete attention, and she was turning away from the other guy and focusing only on me. I laid it on. Not too thick, the way she was swaying from side to side, I knew it wouldn't take much effort, but enough that she was growing more and more interested in me. A moment later she was rubbing my arm and looking deep into my eyes, and I knew I had her. I suggested that maybe we go somewhere else where we could talk. Without any hesitation she quickly agreed, and I took her hand and let her towards the back door of the bar. Wanting to get the hell out of this place, but more wanting to get her away from everyone else. We passed lines of people waiting for the restrooms. A couple making out against the wall, two women holding up their friend and supporting her while she looked like she was going to puke, and a guy already passed out in the corner. Moving quickly around them, I pulled her with me, and pressed the back door open.
Fresh air and darkness greeted us as we stepped out into the alley behind the bar. The heavy steel door slam shut, and the chaos inside grew quieter, giving us some peace. The alley seemed to be deserted, and we were the only two out here. I pulled her close, nuzzling at her neck and she giggled as we moved down the alleyway. She stumbled, I held onto her, and guided her towards a secluded spot behind a stack of pallets, and a large dented dumpster. Probably not her first choice of locations, but being drunk she didn't hesitate or even try to resist. Pressing close to me, she began feverishly kissing me. Wanting things to escalate, and they were going to.
I kissed her back, making a show of softly caressing her cheeks as I did. I felt her body loosen, and completely relax. In one fluid motion I pushed her back, spun her around, swiped her legs out from under her, and slammed her face first into the cement. A muffled sick crunch came from her nose as it slammed into the concrete and her body thudded on to the ground. Shock, and horror at what had happened making her only let out little squeaks and no screams. She had no idea what was going on. Quickly looking around, I made sure we were still alone and unobserved. Then I crouched down, and pulled the knife I carried on my back from its sheath hidden under my shirt. I didn't have much time, I knew that. Only minutes maybe. Straddling her back, I grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, quickly swiping my sharp blade across her throat. Blood gushed from the large gash I cut in her throat and poured on to the cement below her as she sputtered and gargled. Letting go of her head, it smacked the concrete with a sick mushy sound. She squirmed a bit on the ground as she weekly struggled and choked on her own blood. I didn't care, her pain meant nothing to me, that wasn't why I was here. Wiping my knife on what passed as a shirt she wore, I steadied my hands for my real work.
I wanted that jaguar. I needed that jaguar. Pinning her arm to the ground with one of my knees, I Carefully began slicing. I slowly outlined it as I cut her skin. Feeble movements and gurgled cries came from below me as I worked. Blood loss and a high consumption of alcohol working together to slow her movements. I pressed my weight down harder, grinding her body into the pavement. Ignoring the pitiful sounds escaping from her and I just kept focusing on what I was doing. The real reason I was here, the Jaguar.
"A...B...C...D...E...F...g...," I softly sang as I worked. "H...I...J…," and I stopped on J. J for jaguar. I continued humming the tune. Working the knife as I peeled the skin back,
I slowly removed the tattoo from her. Finally reaching the bottom, and with one final cut, I freed it from her. Holding the bloody patch of skin up to the meager light I examined. The flawless jaguar. It was beautiful. Exactly what I wanted, and perfect for my collection. Setting down my knife on her back, I wiped my hand on her, then slid a sandwich bag out of my pocket. Carefully placing the tattoo inside, I nestled it nice and safe back in my pocket. Wiping the blood from my hands, and then my knife on her clothing, I carefully replaced my knife in its sheath. Slowly standing,I surveyed the area again. No one was around. Glancing down at her, I muttered a soft “thank you”, as I turned and walked away.
***
Making it back to my house, I quickly unlocked the front door and slipped in. The late hour and the cover of darkness kept my neighbors from knowing my Cummings and goings. Re-locking the front door, I moved swiftly through my small dark house. Arriving at the door of the guest bedroom, which I called the "studio". Entering, I shut the door behind myself, and moved over to my large work table. Carefully sliding the sandwich bag with the tattooed skin in it out of my pocket, I gently placed it on the desk. Flipping on LED strips and several lights, the space glowed intensely. Tinfoil and blackout curtains covered the only window, letting no one from outside know any light was even on. Stepping across the room, I gently picked up a large scrapbook which sat on a small table. Like a place of honor or worship. Cradling the book, I moved over to the table and softly set it down. Pulling out my chair, I sat and just stared at it for a moment. Then, slowly opening the cover, I gently flipped through page after page. Only stopping when I reached a blank page. Blank except for the large letter "J" wrote neatly in black marker at the top of the page.
I peeled back the cellophane cover of the page, exposing the blank paper underneath. Then, ever so carefully, I removed the tattooed skin from the baggie, and placed it face down on the table. Opening a drawer, I pulled out a bottle and a brush. For the next twenty minutes I carefully worked at brushing the underside of the skin. The material I coded it with being my own concoction. It would harden, it would dry, and it would remain intact. Once every inch of the skin was coded, I gently picked up the tattooed section of skin, and expertly placed it neatly in the middle of the blank page. The ferocious looking jaguar stared back at me. Smiling a little, I began coding the front side of the skin. Applying my solution to every inch of it. Softly singing "A…B…C…D…E…F…G…H…I…J…," as I worked. When that was complete, I set my brush and bottle aside, then carefully lowered the cellophane back down over the page and pressed it in place. Shiny, and quite beautiful, the jaguar rested in its new home.
I sat marveling at its beauty for several minutes. Then, slowly, I began to flip backwards through my scrapbook. I stopped on the letter "G", and a large bunch of grapes dominated the page. The tattooed skin expertly removed and beautifully placed on the page. So lifelike and realistic looking. Flipping back further I stopped on the letter "D". A dragon sat there. All sharp teeth and talons and filled with a deep rage. I could relate. Again, the tattooed skin looked perfectly preserved. Almost like it had freshly been taken. A couple of pages before that one, the letter "B" had balloons on the page. So lifelike and real looking you would have thought they could've floated right off the page. Carefully flipping back through, I stopped on the next blank page after the jaguar. The letter "K" stared up at me from the white surface. K, I thought, I'll have to think on that one.
“A...B...C...D...E...F...G...”