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The Broken

Deep in the winter Michael's father died, leaving him the shack they lived in and a body to bury. With the ground frozen, there was no way to bury his father, and he couldn’t keep the body outside because some animal would definitely sniff it out. Keeping the body inside wasn’t better, even with the cold seeping through the clapboard siding, the house was too warm, and the body would start to rot long before the thaw. At that point, Michael would have to deal with the broken.

 

Dark clouds were gathering on the horizon before Michael started home. Lesson one: Never let ‘em corner you. He saw the footprints before hearing the guttural, animalistic grunts of the broken. They used to be normal, but once caught in the storms, you change. The two broken lunged at the wall where his father’s body lay on the other side.

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The Broken.jpg

The Broken

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The Curse

My grandmother always said that when ever a life is taken, another comes to fill it’s place; I’ve never believed it worked like that, I couldn’t see it being a life for a life. If a person is to be born then someone must die. She said that it was a necessity of life, but I was young and my grandfather had just died. People say anything to calm a child down.

 

Like I said, I never believed her; not even for the first year of my marriage when my wife had a still birth. I was upset, and rightly so, but my grandmother said to me, “Boy, it’s a good thing, means no one has died.” I looked her in the eyes and told her straight out, my son did. She shook her head and gave me a hug. I could feel her wet cheek on mine, and I knew that she hurt too, weather it was because of my pain of something in her own soul I didn’t know at the time. 

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