Smite

Antoine J. Hayes
Aug 15 · 1 min read
Photo by Timothy Eberly on Unsplash

“Ow! What you do that for?” Chris rubbed the back of his neck where his older sister had struck him. From the touch, he knew his skin was red; he burned inside.

“I told you to put the chicken out to thaw when you got home from school,” said Joyce, Chris’s sister. “I swear, being a guardian to a little brat like you is tough. I wish you’d listen. I wish Mom and Dad were still here.” She sighed, her shoulders slumped with her exhale. “Couldn’t even bury them,” she spoke to herself, “not without their bodies.”

Chris bit his lower lip until it bled. He wanted to tell her what really happened to their parents, how it was his fault. Instead, he thrust his hand into his pocket. He fingered a small capsule, the size of a pill. Inside the clear capsule, two figures, a man and a woman, beat upon its sides. No one could hear their screams.


Originally published on Patreon.

Antoine J. Hayes

Written by

Person. Storyteller. Work-in-progress. Writer of fiction & poetry. Maker of zines & journals. Facilitator of creative workshops. Kimbilio Fellow www.ajhayes.com

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