Post by Robert McClister on Dec 7, 2017 19:27:56 GMT -8
The waxing crescent moon shone brightly in the sky, illuminating the sparse clouds and creating a scene worth looking up at. The trees and crests of the mountains blocked out most of the light pollution from Vegas.
At his small home Robert sat by a fit pit, feet propped up, and bottle in hand. He was barefoot, covered in mud and blood spatter. A hooded jacket lay draped across a nearby log, also splashed with blood, and what could be chunks of flesh.
He shifted in his seat to get comfortable, and examined the red on his hands as he took another swig from the bottle. Some of it highlighted the white scar lines that danced across the surface of his skin. The further up his arms, the more pronounced they got.
Nearby on the porch of the home, a large owl with ear tufts and bright orange eyes ripped into the body of a rabbit it had caught. It had been a good hunting night for both of them. He wouldn't go hungry for some time.
He glanced down at the small pile of envelopes and mail he still hadn't opened. The black one with the odd name on it was what had given him hesitation. Reluctantly he reached down, and used a gore stained knife to slice off the side to access the contents.
As he suspected, it was from the family. This time in his sister Morgan's flowing script, and not one of the cousins as it had been years prior.
"Cute. They get points for trying." He muttered to himself. It hadn't taken them long after his move across country to find him again. Several lines into the letter, more suspicions were confirmed. It was an invite and the address to the gathering this year. He raised the bottle to his lips again, and brought his thoughts to what had happened last time.....
*
He could already hear the noise in the driveway, and it made him roll his eyes and want to turn around. No, his presence had been requested, and it wasn't something that was wise to rebuke.
The doors had been locked, but a window left wide open. He slipped in without much effort, and paused to listen for their location. Back living room. He moved with the grace and silence of those he spent the most time with.
The mostly jovial chatter continued, those speaking oblivious that someone was approaching. Until he heard a voice stop mid-sentence.
"Wait- he's coming down the hall."
Ephraim. His brother was difficult to sneak up on. He patted his siblings shoulder as he walked past him.
Ephraim's head never moved, but hands clutched the cane in front of him.
"How was your trip?" he spoke with a kind but sturdy voice. A smile graced his features, dark glasses obscuring his eyes.
Robert took an empty seat close to his brother and pushed the hood off of his head. He looked around at the other people in the room besides himself.
Before he could answer, a drink was offered to him by his much smaller sister, Morgan. The whiskey was inviting. Alcohol would help because he did not want to be in the room. The energy was already tangible. He felt anxious and agitated.
When they gathered, it was dangerous.
Morgan smiled and leaned in to give him a hug. No thanks were needed.
"Boring." He muttered.
"Some of us have to fly across the country, to accommodate others," A dyed blonde remarked from the right, before sipping from a wine glass. "No offense Eph. We know you're not the best driver" The smile was sardonic even though the tone sounded sincere.
Robert gripped his glass tightly, making his knuckles white. The sound of her voice was rage inducing.
"Kinda funny we've been kept waiting by the one that lives the closest and doesn't have a disability for an excuse." She continued. "Manners must be a useless skill for lone wolves." She was making fun of him.
"Enough Fiona. We need to talk about New York, and what Craig has uncovered there. And what concerns one of us, concerns all of us." The Irish lilt. Brennan. Good. He could take over bitch wrangling for the night.
The meeting moved on after that, Craig and Brennan keeping the stronger personalities in the room in line. Robert remained quiet and did his best to ignore the sharp barbs of his oldest sister. Every word sneered took effort to disregard. Pushing his buttons wasn't easy, and she was a pro.
He found himself looking out the window, yearning for the fresh night air, and not a house full of people who spent too much time in the city. So much going on in the room. There was a buzzing in his ears that made him fidget.
What am doing here? I'm adding nothing to the problem at hand.
Getting lost in his own head was a good way to avoid confrontation with Fiona, and anyone else he didn't play nice with. That would be six of the other eight people in the room. Morgan and Eph were alright.
I should leave.
The idea was tempting, and he rolled it around internally while finishing off his drink. He valued tradition and hard work, and the natural order of things. None of that was present currently.
I always fuck up everything I touch.... huh?
Something wasn't right. He had never internalized such a stupid sentiment. He was highly proficient at many things.
People die around me,
So?
Mom and dad are dead because of who I am.
He sat up sharply and looked about the room. Brennan was speaking, interchangeably with Craig. Ephraim interjected intermittently. But then he set eyes on Fiona sitting on the sofa, sipping her wine and smelling a rose in a crystalline vase. She was staring at him, and Robert knew exactly what had happened. Her smug smile gave it away. He saw red.
Shouldn't the runts of the litter be killed off?
He sprung from his seat with ease, and crossed the room so quickly and quietly, one might question if his feet hit the ground at all. No one in the room was as fast as him, not on his worst day. So none of them could stop the hand that reached for that vase, and brought it into contact with his sisters temple.
The vase shattered audibly, and Fiona cried out. Dark red began seeping down the side of her head. She clutched her face with a horrified expression mixed with disbelief. Robert stood over her with a snarl warping his features.
"Stay out of my head you vapid, heartless bitch." He muttered through clenched teeth, finger pointed in her face.
"WHOA"
"Hey- Robert what the FUCK?"
"Bloody hell."
Someone laughed.
Craig dove between them, and he stood eye level with his cousin. One could smell the cigarettes on his breath as he spoke with a thick New York accent.
"Get your ass outside, now." The verbal knife hand left no room for argument, even if Robert did entertain the idea for a second.
Once out the door, he moved for his truck immediately.
"Hey. Rob! What the fuck was that?"
He turned towards Craig and assumed a blank expression.
"She wants to keep playing with fire, she's going to get burned. Or bludgeoned in this case."
"Ha ha, real funny pal. This is a joke to you?"
He shifted on his feet and crossed his arms. "No, but it must be to her."
"Blood is thicker than water. When we stick together, we are stronger. We can watch each other's backs."
"No. Blood is just easier to slip in." He spun away from his cousin as Craig's hand went to his arm.
Robert turned his head slowly to look from Craig's face, to his hand. In the distance, an owl hooted. Then another. Then several at once. Then a screech.
His cousin looked up into trees, only just now realizing what was going on. Dozens of sets of eyes glowed in the darkness. He let go of the arm and backed away.
"Fine. But do me a favor? Call your brother when you get home. Don't be a complete asshole. And congrats, you just gave her exactly what she wanted, give or take a head wound."
*
No, he would not be attending this year. The likelihood of sororicidal actions would be high. He tossed the envelope, the letter, and the rest of the junk mail into the fire. If they had an issue with it, they could come knocking on his door.
From the porch the owl hooted, finished his meal.
He looked up at the night sky, gauging how much of the evening was left. Then he gazed out into the woods, all of those eyes looking back. He had a ritual to complete. The time for past contemplation was over.
At his small home Robert sat by a fit pit, feet propped up, and bottle in hand. He was barefoot, covered in mud and blood spatter. A hooded jacket lay draped across a nearby log, also splashed with blood, and what could be chunks of flesh.
He shifted in his seat to get comfortable, and examined the red on his hands as he took another swig from the bottle. Some of it highlighted the white scar lines that danced across the surface of his skin. The further up his arms, the more pronounced they got.
Nearby on the porch of the home, a large owl with ear tufts and bright orange eyes ripped into the body of a rabbit it had caught. It had been a good hunting night for both of them. He wouldn't go hungry for some time.
He glanced down at the small pile of envelopes and mail he still hadn't opened. The black one with the odd name on it was what had given him hesitation. Reluctantly he reached down, and used a gore stained knife to slice off the side to access the contents.
As he suspected, it was from the family. This time in his sister Morgan's flowing script, and not one of the cousins as it had been years prior.
"Cute. They get points for trying." He muttered to himself. It hadn't taken them long after his move across country to find him again. Several lines into the letter, more suspicions were confirmed. It was an invite and the address to the gathering this year. He raised the bottle to his lips again, and brought his thoughts to what had happened last time.....
*
He could already hear the noise in the driveway, and it made him roll his eyes and want to turn around. No, his presence had been requested, and it wasn't something that was wise to rebuke.
The doors had been locked, but a window left wide open. He slipped in without much effort, and paused to listen for their location. Back living room. He moved with the grace and silence of those he spent the most time with.
The mostly jovial chatter continued, those speaking oblivious that someone was approaching. Until he heard a voice stop mid-sentence.
"Wait- he's coming down the hall."
Ephraim. His brother was difficult to sneak up on. He patted his siblings shoulder as he walked past him.
Ephraim's head never moved, but hands clutched the cane in front of him.
"How was your trip?" he spoke with a kind but sturdy voice. A smile graced his features, dark glasses obscuring his eyes.
Robert took an empty seat close to his brother and pushed the hood off of his head. He looked around at the other people in the room besides himself.
Before he could answer, a drink was offered to him by his much smaller sister, Morgan. The whiskey was inviting. Alcohol would help because he did not want to be in the room. The energy was already tangible. He felt anxious and agitated.
When they gathered, it was dangerous.
Morgan smiled and leaned in to give him a hug. No thanks were needed.
"Boring." He muttered.
"Some of us have to fly across the country, to accommodate others," A dyed blonde remarked from the right, before sipping from a wine glass. "No offense Eph. We know you're not the best driver" The smile was sardonic even though the tone sounded sincere.
Robert gripped his glass tightly, making his knuckles white. The sound of her voice was rage inducing.
"Kinda funny we've been kept waiting by the one that lives the closest and doesn't have a disability for an excuse." She continued. "Manners must be a useless skill for lone wolves." She was making fun of him.
"Enough Fiona. We need to talk about New York, and what Craig has uncovered there. And what concerns one of us, concerns all of us." The Irish lilt. Brennan. Good. He could take over bitch wrangling for the night.
The meeting moved on after that, Craig and Brennan keeping the stronger personalities in the room in line. Robert remained quiet and did his best to ignore the sharp barbs of his oldest sister. Every word sneered took effort to disregard. Pushing his buttons wasn't easy, and she was a pro.
He found himself looking out the window, yearning for the fresh night air, and not a house full of people who spent too much time in the city. So much going on in the room. There was a buzzing in his ears that made him fidget.
What am doing here? I'm adding nothing to the problem at hand.
Getting lost in his own head was a good way to avoid confrontation with Fiona, and anyone else he didn't play nice with. That would be six of the other eight people in the room. Morgan and Eph were alright.
I should leave.
The idea was tempting, and he rolled it around internally while finishing off his drink. He valued tradition and hard work, and the natural order of things. None of that was present currently.
I always fuck up everything I touch.... huh?
Something wasn't right. He had never internalized such a stupid sentiment. He was highly proficient at many things.
People die around me,
So?
Mom and dad are dead because of who I am.
He sat up sharply and looked about the room. Brennan was speaking, interchangeably with Craig. Ephraim interjected intermittently. But then he set eyes on Fiona sitting on the sofa, sipping her wine and smelling a rose in a crystalline vase. She was staring at him, and Robert knew exactly what had happened. Her smug smile gave it away. He saw red.
Shouldn't the runts of the litter be killed off?
He sprung from his seat with ease, and crossed the room so quickly and quietly, one might question if his feet hit the ground at all. No one in the room was as fast as him, not on his worst day. So none of them could stop the hand that reached for that vase, and brought it into contact with his sisters temple.
The vase shattered audibly, and Fiona cried out. Dark red began seeping down the side of her head. She clutched her face with a horrified expression mixed with disbelief. Robert stood over her with a snarl warping his features.
"Stay out of my head you vapid, heartless bitch." He muttered through clenched teeth, finger pointed in her face.
"WHOA"
"Hey- Robert what the FUCK?"
"Bloody hell."
Someone laughed.
Craig dove between them, and he stood eye level with his cousin. One could smell the cigarettes on his breath as he spoke with a thick New York accent.
"Get your ass outside, now." The verbal knife hand left no room for argument, even if Robert did entertain the idea for a second.
Once out the door, he moved for his truck immediately.
"Hey. Rob! What the fuck was that?"
He turned towards Craig and assumed a blank expression.
"She wants to keep playing with fire, she's going to get burned. Or bludgeoned in this case."
"Ha ha, real funny pal. This is a joke to you?"
He shifted on his feet and crossed his arms. "No, but it must be to her."
"Blood is thicker than water. When we stick together, we are stronger. We can watch each other's backs."
"No. Blood is just easier to slip in." He spun away from his cousin as Craig's hand went to his arm.
Robert turned his head slowly to look from Craig's face, to his hand. In the distance, an owl hooted. Then another. Then several at once. Then a screech.
His cousin looked up into trees, only just now realizing what was going on. Dozens of sets of eyes glowed in the darkness. He let go of the arm and backed away.
"Fine. But do me a favor? Call your brother when you get home. Don't be a complete asshole. And congrats, you just gave her exactly what she wanted, give or take a head wound."
*
No, he would not be attending this year. The likelihood of sororicidal actions would be high. He tossed the envelope, the letter, and the rest of the junk mail into the fire. If they had an issue with it, they could come knocking on his door.
From the porch the owl hooted, finished his meal.
He looked up at the night sky, gauging how much of the evening was left. Then he gazed out into the woods, all of those eyes looking back. He had a ritual to complete. The time for past contemplation was over.