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Bumps In The Night


Discount Long Distance


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Freedom, Part 1
by
Martin H Slusser

Minor sparks of light shifted from the ground. A thin, child-like giggle came from one or two of the sparks. They swirled to the right, circling and giggling. Lights flashed from the windows in the block, and a racket of music filtered through crumbling brick walls.

Two men muttered into a pipe. Behind them several children lay tied against the wall.

A well-dress cit stalked in dragging a small, dirty child.

“Idiots,” he said, scowling, and kicked the pipe away. “On your own time, not mine. Where’s the rest?”

Muttering and scowling, one smoker pointed at a door.

The cit threw the child at them and opened the door. Wood smoke and blood assaulted him.

Moving out from the smoke, a man in blood stained clothes saw him and grinned.

“Citizen,” he cried. “All hail. I have your order ready.”

The butcher moved to the freezer and came out with cryopacked tiny steaks and chops.

The cit took it. He glanced over the packages and said, “I have another one for you.”

“Wonderful, thank you, thank you.”

The butcher shook a cigarette out of a pack and lit it.

He offered one to the cit. The citizen scowled, waving away the smoke.

“Thank you, no.”

“Nonsense. The old Master enjoyed a cigar--“

“Gods do as they please.”

With a small shrug, the butcher blinked and stared beyond the cit. He smiled.

“Two? I thought you said one?”

Scowling, the cit turned. A pair of little girls stood looking and giggling.

“Hi.”

“I’m Trixie.”

“I’m Dixie.”

A little dirt sifted from the floor of the dancehall above. The girls gawked at the ceiling.

“Gee.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Almost human.” The butcher sighed. “Sometimes these animals seem almost human.”

Dixie frowned. She glanced at Trixie.

“Who’s a ani-mals?”

“Gosh, Sis. Why, it must be a longhouse we never heerd o’. The Mall folks.”

Smiling, the butcher patted Dixie on the head.

“Don’t worry. I’m good. Pretty soon you’ll be asleep--“

“I hate naps.”

“Me, too.”

Whimpers came from the smoke. Dixie peered into the mess.

“Gosh. Look.”

Trixie scowled and blinked. Several tiny bodies hung from the rafters, blood draining into cook pots. One was human. Behind a small door, children wept and cried.

“Hey.”

“That’s not nice.”

“To do to kids.”

The butcher sighed. “Almost human. Citizen, wouldn’t they be better working up there?” He glanced at the ceiling. “Madame Pufiette told me it’s hard to get enough--“ One eye closed in a slow wink.

The cit nodded. He grabbed Dixie and Trixie.

“Here, Mister.”

“Lay off.”

“We’re legal.”

“Where’s your marks? I don’t see where you have the chip--“

“Of Heaven.”

“Yeah. Citizens of Heaven.”

In shrill screeches, they started to sing, “Yes, Jesus loves me--“

The cit slapped Dixie’s face.

“That’s evil. Don’t sing that.”

Dixie frowned. She touched a red mark from the cit’s hand on her face. Trixie scowled and stared at the cit. A red mark formed on her face.

“You all oughtn’t to o’ done that, Mister. I love my Sis.”

“And I love her.”

They linked pinkie fingers.

“You’re a bad man.”

Softly, Dixie said, “Go to Hell.”

The cit scowled. “You stupid animals--“ He blinked and raised his hand. Smoke boiled from it, and he screamed. The butcher swung a knife, and it melted over his hands. Screaming, he raced away only to collapse in ashes. The cit whimpered and sagged to his knees, but the flames were there, as well.

The girls skipped to the back. One touched a lock, and steel melted, flames shooting up towards the ceiling.

The door creaked open. The room was packed with children. The twins beamed a happy grin.

“Howdy.”

“I’m Dixie.”

“I’m Trixie.”

“Wanna play?”

“Run,” an older child said. “The butcher--“

"The baker.”

"The candlestick maker.”

“That’s fun.”

“Y’ all come on out.”

The children crept out. Seeing no one in the abattoir, they raced away. The girls sighed.

“Guess they don’t wanna play.”

“Nobody loves us.”

Dixie kissed away a tear on Trixie’s cheek. “Be brave,” she said. “Jesus loves you, and I do, too.”

Ancient wood snapped sparks. Dried scale mold caught fire and spread it faster until the entire ceiling was in flames. It dropped into a vat of fat, and then wood for the smokehouse and fire roared around the twins, twisting over the small bodies.

©2004 StoriesByEmail.com

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