This week’s segment was inspired by none other than my fantabulous mom! She’s a mystery buff and loves thrillers. Enjoy folks.
Ignoring the now constant sting from the open sores on my palms, I slung the shovel into another heap of dirt, relieved the evidence of my evil deed was nearly covered.
I froze when a pair of headlights flashed on me like a spotlight…
Similar to a performer caught in the throes of stagefright, my mind went blank and any hope of miming innocence died. Fingers locked around a shovel’s handle, tears streaming down my face, hair slicked with sweat–all these things betrayed my filthy actions.
The truck’s engine died and the driver’s side door opened. A man’s booted leg contacted the ground, while his large, dark hand gripped the edge of the doorframe for balance. “What’s going on out here?” The man’s baritone voice echoed through my body.
I recognized Brandon’s dad, Eli, before he completely emerged from the cab.
I cleared my throat, willing my voice to eject a response. None came out. I had no brain to trigger a thought worth shoving past my lips.
“Tamara, are you all right?” Eli’s brow crinkled and he took a step forward. “Why you got a shovel?” His eyes searched the surrounding landscape, then perused my body. His gaze lingered over my breasts and bare legs. The edge of his lip tugged up.
Eli closed in.
Heart pounding, I retreated, nearly losing my balance from sinking into the loose dirt of Brandon and Jack’s grave. I prayed that I didn’t fall in.
“Girl, where’s Brandon?” Eli scanned the ground beneath my feet. His half-smile faded. I could only guess it was from seeing the tops of Brandon and Jack’s heads.
My fingers squeezed even tighter around the shovel, ignoring the fresh burning of blistered flesh against splintered wood. I wanted to run, but where to? Besides, my breath came in such short spurts, I doubted I’d make it far before I used up all my energy.
He tut-tutted and shook his head. “What have you done?”
Something cold and strong gripped my ankle. I screamed and yanked my leg away, only to find Brandon’s dirt covered hand stuck out of the ground, firmly anchoring me to his grave. I gave another pull. It threw me off balance. I fell to the ground, hard, releasing the shovel in time to catch myself with open palms.
No matter which direction I twisted, the hand still held me tight. “Eli, help me!”
Eli chuckled and shook his head, side-stepping my flailing arms. “Now, why should I do that? You got yourself in this mess. Not my problem. Come on, son, get out of there.”
I looked back to see Brandon’s head popped out of the ground.
“Surprise!” He wagged his eyebrows and flashed a grin at me.
I stared at his dirt-caked face, baffled. He died. How was this possible? “I thought…”
He cackled. “Thought what? I was dead?” He laughed again. “See Dad? I told you this one would be fun.”
“Indeed son. But really, I don’t understand why you have to let them think they’ve killed you every time. Now get out of there. And help Jack, will you?”
Brandon frowned and rolled his eyes. Clearly, he was disappointed. “Yeah. Take her, will you?”
With a sigh, Eli hooked his arms under mine and pulled me to my feet.
I tried to twist free, but he held me fast.
“Shush, girl. Stop it. We got plans for you yet.”
Brandon rocked back and forth, loosening the dirt around him. Soon, his torso was free, allowing him leverage to dig out Jack. I watched, numb from shock as the two boys rolled out of the make-shift grave. They dusted the excess dirt from their clothes, then grinned at me.
Brandon patted my cheek. “See, Tamara? I told you we’d have fun tonight.”
Jack grinned. “Yeah. And we’re just getting started.”
Where should the plot turn now? Let me know “What Happens Next?”