MicroHorror

I’ve always liked those chicken bone candies. You know, the shiny little ones that crunch when you bite into them. It’s not so much the taste I like but that feel when they splinter into pieces. I love the sound of them cracking, the sensation of the fragments in my mouth.

When I found real chicken bones in the garbage, I loved to stand on them, hear them break under my foot although it was better when I grew up and was strong enough to crack them with my hands. My dad punished me, but I didn’t care. It was harmless fun, like when you see kids throwing stones at frogs. I really liked to do it when my kid sister, Jenny was around. I can’t count the number of times I’ve scared her shitless by threatening to do the same to her puny legs. I’d just laugh at the little loser when she got upset.

When I was about sixteen, I noticed this girl, Lori, who lived in the neighborhood. Sure, there were girls in school, all big and fat, but I only liked the thin ones. She was tiny, so small she looked like a little girl. Thin face, narrow shoulders, poky little arms and skinny legs. Still, she walked and talked like a teen. We’ve been an item for a time now. I call her “chicken bones.” Jenny’s been mad as hell since I met Lori. It’s like she’s in love with me or something. She’s jealous and follows us everywhere. I’m getting tired of her.

She’s is in a dark room, her arms and legs spread and fastened to the posts of a bed. She’s scared out of her mind. What the fuck am I doing here, she thinks, what’s going to happen to me? It’s been hours since the figure tied her up, so she’s hungry and thirsty. She pulls on the ropes but they only get tighter.

Someone comes through the door, letting in some light from the hallway. She doesn’t know if it’s male or female, because she can’t see its face, but something in the way it walks is familiar. The figure lifts a baseball bat, and brings it down hard on her left ankle. There’s a cracking sound, and she shrieks in agony. It’s the worst pain she’s ever felt. The figure lifts the bat and brings it down again in the same place. The pain of it splintering roars through her. She screams “Why are you doing this?” The figure reaches over and starts to manipulate her ankle. In a low voice, it says “It’s so awesome when I can feel the bones all splintered and loose.” Just before she blacks out, she hears the figure say, “How do you like it now, chicken bones?”

When Dad and I arrive home from our fishing trip, we see that only the attic light is on. Which is strange, as Jenny, old scaredy-cat Jenny, is all alone for the first time.

“Where do you think she is?” asks Dad.

“Probably hiding under her bed,” I say.

We put our fishing gear down and go look for Jenny.