08-17-2009

Start Fiction:


     Ken hammered in to the wall, tearing out plaster and lathe as he had in the rest of the house. It was the last section of the house to be remodeled, so he was more energized than the previous two phases. The bathroom held the last of the plaster, the last uninsulated section of the house.
     The house was a hundred years old, with a damp basement so musky smells were common place. Hitting the last wall, Ken punched through he wall and was greeted with a pungent odor.
     Ken grabbed his mask and pushed it tighter against his face. He ran around the second floor and opened them all the way. He stuck the box fan in the bathroom window. He didn't care that it was snowing; the smell had to get out and fast.
     Ken ran downstairs and grabbed two more masks and layered them on top of each other, sticking a peppermint between the outer masks.
     He walked up the stairs with hesitation at each step. The idea of having to clean up a large animal carcass was not part of the plan, especially one that was so fresh.
     Triple protected and ready to scoop up raccoon or squirrel guts, Ken threw open the bathroom door. Staring at the opposite corner of the room. The plaster dust had cleared, broken lathe stuck out of the wall and what looked like a black garbage bag. Funny; Ken didn't remember finding any sort of lining anywhere else in the house.
     He picked up his flat bar and shovel, ready for the task at hand. Ken ripped out more lathe toward the floor, figuring the animal would be laying on the subfloor behind the wall. As he tore away the lathe, he kept his eye on the black bag. It seemed full; a large garbage bag behind a plaster wall that was -
     "Holy shit," Ken said, dropping his flat bar, jumping up and backing away fast hitting the wall. He looked at the bag for several minutes to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was there, buried in his wall.
     Ken vomited in his mask, spilling out around the edges. Ripping the masks off, he ran out of the bathroom and down the stairs, falling halfway down. He laid in the foyer looking back up the stairs. His eyelids grew heavy, his body ached. He didn't try to move, or maybe he couldn't; he couldn't tell and didn't care.
     Ken awoke strapped to a board, medics and firemen surrounded him in his living room. He heard his wife's voice and called for her. Anne came to his side, tears in his eyes.
     "Tell them to look in the bathroom wall," he whispered, "I think I found something; a body."
     "Don't talk," Anne said, caressing his face, "save your energy."
     "Just have someone check the bathroom wall, please," Ken said.
     "Okay," Anne said, kissing him on the forehead.
     The medics lifted him on to the cot, secured him and began to move him out of the house.
     "The bathroom wall," Ken said, his voice strained as he tried to yell.



End Fiction.

I might have to continue this one tomorrow. We'll see...