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   Chapter 4 No.4

Eudora By AaronDennis Characters: 5238

Updated: 2018-01-10 12:02


Larry had quit work and decided to use his father's money to live out his days in the city while Eudora found work. Of course, she was barely able to speak to people and had no work skills. Larry, like his father, like Eudora's father, spent all his money on hooch.

With little or no food, Eudora found it increasingly difficult to cook. She began to resort to comfort behavior. She lied down on the floor. She lied down in the dark. She scratched. She grunted. It was rhythmical. It was melodic. Larry found it all unappealing.

One night, drunk, he found himself hungry and tired of his wife's odd machinations. He yelled at her. She just smiled. He hated those fake, white teeth. He struck her across the face. A pink welt quickly formed on her pasty, white face. Eudora had endured much, but she had never been struck. A heat overtook her and she stood up so hard and fast it knocked Larry on his fat, lazy ass. She fainted.

Larry counted his blessings. Something inside him told him she was about to kill him. He dismissed it.

Eudora was on the wall again. It moved forwards, but it slowly began to look like the old wall. The scratches began to show. The wall began to crumble. Larry left for a few days, left Eudora on her own. He figured it was time to cut back on the booze. He stayed at a motel for a night then two then three. Once he came home, he found what barely resembled his wife.

Her hair was matted and tangled. Her big glasses were gone. She was naked; her pasty, white body gleaming under the moonlight. She had actually scratched groves into the concrete walls of their home. Her fingers were bloody.

"Dora? What're you doin'? You're fuckin' up my home! I paid for all this!" He growled at her, and stomped over and grabbed her by the shoulders.

He lifted her up and turned her around. Her big, fake yellow teeth were crumbling. Like her walls. She bared them. She was not smiling.

"Dora-Eudora-You-Dufus. Dora-Eudora-You-Dufus, " she sang. "Dora-Eudora-You-Dufus. Dora-Eudora-You Dufus."

She sang it again and again. Larry's mouth fell agape. He was terrified. He let her go and eased back, but she kept pace and eased forwards. Just be yourself, Patty had told her. Eudora was on her wall now. It was broken and the scratch grooves were bloody. She grunted.

She grunted and Larry tried to speak, but only managed a gasp. Eudora struck him across the face. A red welt quickly formed on his fat cheek.

She grunted and struck him again. The impact of her full body behind the wallop sent him crashing to the ground. Larry never had a road. If he did, one might imagi

ne a dusty path; never anything on it, never changing, never amounting to anything. Larry became what he was before he went to school, before he learned to be Larry. It was black. Larry was dead.

It wasn't long after that Charlie had learned the whereabouts of Larry and Eudora. During a cold, winter afternoon, he found the house. It was a small, block house. The windows were smudged. It looked abandoned.

Charlie tried to peek in, but saw nothing. After endless knocking, he decided to do what he had to. He took off his jacket, wrapped it around his fist and smashed a window. He broke the rest of it and forced his way in.

Immediately, the unmistakable stench of death corrupted his palate. His lungs tried to repel the smell. His stomach rebelled against the taste. He vomited and froze after hearing the strangest sound.

Scratch-Scritch-Scratch-Scritch.

He listened for a moment or two. It was Eudora. She was there. That was good.

He tried to follow the sound, but it was coming from everywhere at once. He walked through the den, and found himself in the living room. He found the stench. It must have been Larry. It was fat and bald, but it had no face. Its throat was bitten out. An arm was eaten. The flies, roaches, and maggots were working on the entrails. Charlie was about to vomit again, but he didn't have time. He heard the scratching.

Scratch-Scritch-Scratch-Scritch.

And with it, his sister's grunts. Before he knew it, he was on the country road. It dimmed and grayed as it became a rundown highway. That highway led into a basement, and in that basement, there was a monster. There was no Eudora. She was herself now—what all those years in the basement taught her to be.

Any trace of Charlie's half-sister was gone. What he saw was what he imagined his grandparents had seen so long ago, a hunched over naked creature. The crack of light through the door shone into the basement, and her pale, white skin reflected that light.

She held up a bloody hand to shield her eyes. Charlie saw that her teeth had broken away. The braces were gone. She didn't speak; she grunted.

"Dora?" Charlie asked in disbelief. "I'm here to take care of you."

There was nobody there to take care of Charlie. Like a bolt of lightning, the monster charged and leapt, bashing its full weight into the young man. It felt like the ground came out from under his feet and hit him from behind. Sharp pains gripped the sides of his face like bear traps. The monster tore his face away. He screamed, and it screamed, too, and then he couldn't scream. A bear trap seized his throat shut.

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