No Earthly Sound
by D. Alexander Ward © 2007
That very morning, he had kissed her goodbye. He slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder and drained the last from his coffee mug. Opening the door, he felt the warmth of early spring. She hustled to the front door from the kitchen, still in her sweat pants and t-shirt, her dark hair gathered in a bun atop her head. She smiled at him as she took the empty mug from him.
“Have a good day,” she said.
He smiled back at her, leaned in and gave her a soft kiss.
“You too, baby,” he replied as he pulled away, then stopped and fixed her with a grin. “Oh, and Happy Anniversary.”
Her face brightened.
“You remembered…”
Of course he had remembered. He gave her a smile and a wink as he slid into the seat of his car and peeled out of the gravel drive.
#
Work was indescribably tedious. By noon, he was more than ready to call it a day, and as he sat at his desk, he thought about going home and making love to his wife. On this bit of daydreaming he spent more than a minute or two, and when his computer beeped a message alert he was startled out of a very detailed exchange involving the straps of a silk teddy, the bed post, and slow moving flesh pressed upon flesh.
He sat up, clicked the icon for the internal message service and read.
Priority: High
Mr. Marsh is here about the River Walk project, meeting in 30 minutes. See you there.
Mark
He sighed, listless. It seemed that there would be no afternoon delight for him.
#
When he looked at the clock, it was 4:30. He bid an eager but cordial goodbye to his clients. Once alone, he seated himself at the end of the long table and dialed his home number. His wife answered.
“Hey, baby,” he said.
There was a moment of silence.
“Oh, hey there,” she said.
“You thought I forgot this morning, didn't you?”
“Yeah, I did.”
He smiled. “Well, how about dinner?”
There was a raucous in the background, almost a screaming.
“Hold on,” he heard her say as she stretched to slam the window shut.
“Okay, sorry,” she said, silence the backdrop once again.
“What was that?”
“The neighbors arguing.”
He sighed. “Gotta love George and Juanita!”
She chuckled.
“So how about The Grill?” he offered, thinking of the casual neighborhood place where they often went, the place of their engagement.
“Sounds wonderful!”
“See you there after work then. I love you.”
She returned the parting and the line went dead. He hung up the phone and leaned back in the chair. He relished the idea of dinner and drinks, and of ravishing her afterwards.
#
The Grill was full. Full of people at the bar, and those there for a famously good dinner of home-cooked southern food. After dinner, they lingered over a couple glasses of wine.
“You know, I love you,” he said as he took her hand in his, glancing briefly at the sparkling wedding ring.
She smiled and hummed her affirmation. He felt her foot sneak up his leg.
“Oh, my,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Check, please!”
Moments later they stood outside the restaurant, holding hands. He placed a deep, lingering kiss on her lips. She returned it, so hungrily that she bit his lip as he pulled away.
She giggled with feigned innocence.
“See you at home,” he said, pulling away.
“Can't wait!” she replied, and they parted ways, seating themselves in their own cars. As he started up the jeep, she pulled up alongside him and rolled down her window.
“I gotta gas up on the way, but I'll be there soon. Be ready for me,” she grinned.
He raised his eyebrows playfully and drove away.
That night he got home first. He unlocked the door and strode into the house. Throwing his keys on the kitchen counter, he made his way to their bedroom. He stepped into the darkened room and threw the switch on the wall. The ceiling fan spun to life and the light filled the room. He stepped halfway in before the breath was stolen from him. As a matter of habit, he started to sit down on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes. But he stopped. That the bed was messy and unmade from the night before was nothing strange, but what ripped the world from beneath him was the sight of his beloved wife lying on the bed, motionless on blood-darkened sheets. He gasped and instinctively pressed himself against the nearby wall for support. She was utterly lifeless, her vacant eyes staring up at something he would never see. The walls were decorated with drops and spatters of her blood, her body shorn like a rag doll. Her limbs were laid askance in an unnatural way, muscle having been ripped from tendon. Then there was the deep cavity in her middle that lay open and dark, as if she had been fed upon by wolves. The impossibility of it struck him most of all. He'd just had dinner with her, he'd just kissed her.
Hadn't he? His mind raced to comprehend it.
He slid down to the floor, weeping uncontrollably, unable to look away from the sight of his beloved ripped apart. Her eyes so vacant, her body so rent. There could be no earthly sound for the scream that welled within him, though it was silenced as he heard the sound of tires on the gravel drive. He made not a sound. The engine died away, and the front door opened. He heard the latch give way, heard the door swing wide. He knew not what awaited him, but staring up at the sheets soaked in crimson, he felt his fate grim and inescapable. He shivered.
“Hunnneeey…?” he heard its monstrous voice call out as it slithered down the hallway toward the bedroom.
The End
Born and raised in the pastoral countryside outside of the city, where his love for the people, passions, and folklore of the south was nurtured, David is a long-time native of the vibrant creative community that is Richmond, Virginia. He moonlights as an inconspicuous Ops Manager by day before inviting in the ‘haints' at night and relating what he can see moving about in the dark folds of the landscape. His fiction has appeared in Dream International Quarterly, Treasures, Crimson Highway, and Crime and Suspense. Visit his webpage at www.wyrdtales.net