THAT GOT HIM PUT AWAY FOR THREE YEARS IN A F*CKIN PHSYCH WARD

A day of reckoning

Arthur Sutter yawned, hitched up his coffee-stained tee shirt, and scratched his overhung belly before flopping on his sagging mattress that hadn’t seen a clean sheet since he last had a bath, and he couldn’t remember when that was and didn’t give a rats arse anyway.

He lived alone now, out of town where he was no longer welcome after what happened but they got it wrong, he wasn’t doing what they said. He was just keeping her from struggling while he said she ought not to wear skimpy clothes like that, but she started screeching and that got him put away for three years in a f*ckin’ psych ward.

So he took great care now to make sure there were no prying eyes to witness what he did when his needs became uncontrollable..

When he returned from his enforced incarceration, what few friends he had began drifting away, so now only Howard comes out once a week to share a bottle or two in his backfiring rust-bucket, but lately, even Howard didn’t seem too keen on his company.

In that hazy awareness on the cusp of sleep, self-pitying thoughts of how everyone conspired to turn his life to sh!t flitted through Arthur’s mind like stones skipping over water, and as night finally took him he muttered, ‘fck’m, fck’m all.’

The clock showed 3.30am when he awoke to bright daylight, loud music and drunken yelling. With a dead-thing taste in his mouth and a cramped bladder, he heaved his bulk from the bed and after a much needed piss, looked out.

In the adjacent empty field, there was now a village like something out of a story book, with cobbled streets and thatched cottages all flying coloured bunting. In the square, there were wooden benches loaded with food where men were swilling from tankards served up by half-naked girls.

This was one crazy f*ckin’ dream, and Arthur wanted in. With quick excited breaths, he squeezed his belly into faded jeans that had shrunk some, tugged on a once-clean tee and with sweaty anticipation rushed out into the field, pushing his way through an invisible sticky web to enter the village.

‘Morning Arthur,’ said a voice from behind. ‘glad you could join us.’ He turned to find a tall grey-haired man with twinkling eyes and a bright smile, who held out his hand ‘Call me Dev, Arthur, I’m your guide and I’ll be around if you need anything,’ he waved at the carousing group in the square, ‘but it’s your day, enjoy yourself, it’s all free.’

So Arthur picked out a bench where meat and fruit were still plentiful and began sucking on ripe figs and sweet melon. With juice dripping off his chin, he chugged a tankard of beer that appeared at his elbow. The skinny man sitting next to him, with his arm around a serving girl, turned and with glazed eyes belched a grinning welcome.

The sun stood high in a cloudless sky, a lifting breeze stirred the draped bunting and the air seemed unnaturally heavy, as though compressed by an unseen force. The music was like nothing he’d ever heard, and strangely haunting.

Time slipped by unnoticed, eating, drinking and swapping. debauched yarns. With beer-goggled eyes, his new friends’ heads were moving around like floating balloons and a slightly drunk Arthur was happy. For the first time in his miserable life, he was in the company of men whose needs and tastes mirrored his own.

He understood the compulsive urges that made them society’s outcasts and he let their salacious boasting settle over him like a warm blanket. His belly never seemed to fill and he never needed to piss. It was a good dream and he hoped it would never end.ld never end.

They were still drinking when the sun slipped underground and when the light faded, Dev reappeared. With a wide grin and an overly suggestive wink, he said. ‘Have you all had a good time?’

Drunken shouts of, ‘yeah,’ f*ckin’ great’ and ‘yoobet.’

Dev. raised a quieting hand. ‘Well, now is the highlight of the day,’ he said, ‘You’re all invited to the roasting, a traditional end to our time of fun…if you’ll follow me, please.’

Light from a full moon sieved through a thin layer of cloud as he led them into a field where flames danced in a large circular fire-pit. When the group stumbled in, someone broke wind with a loud ripping sound and a slurred voice shouted, ‘So what the f*ck are we roasting?’

Dev. spread his arms. ‘Why, YOU of course,’ he said, ‘that’s why you were invited.’

The ripple of laughter that followed slowly died, a growing uneasiness silencing the group as a dark smoky haze with a faint smell of sulphur formed around Dev. His eyes were now glowing amber, his smile strangely threatening. In a rich, deep voice, he said.

‘WELCOME TO HELL’

Panic spread through the group as realisation took hold, a clawing fear turned their insides to mush and instinctively, they huddled together. Then someone yelled a terrified warning as horned creatures appeared out of the dark with firelight sparking on three-pointed prods and they spread out in a frantic stampede to get away but were herded back to the edge and pitched shrieking into the pit.

Pushed close to the fire, the scorching heat singed Arthur’s lank hair and burned through his clothes. His legs felt watery, barely holding him upright, and when the prods pierced his belly his bowels opened and he let out a despairing scream.

‘THIS AIN’T REAL, IT’S JUST A F*CKIN’ DREAM.’


************

With no reply to his continued knocking, Howard went inside to look for Arthur and what he found sent him running from the house screaming.

The first cops to arrive were stunned by what they saw. Jim Tucker, a grizzled 20 year veteran moved his gum and shook his head, ‘ain’t never seen anything like that.’

Sam gave a slow nod. ‘Yeah, I reckon this’ll give forensics something to chew on.’

And while they waited for the team to arrive, they studied the charred remains of Arthur Sutter as he lay immaculately dressed and perfectly positioned on clean white sheets.