Congratulations to Arielle Guay for winning our short story contest!
Trom watched as the hot water made the tea dissolve in his mug. Picking it up, he headed over to the sofa.
Before he could sit down, he heard his doorbell ring. Curious; he hadn’t invited anyone over. Trom headed over to the front door of his new house. He’d moved in only a month ago, and, being an introvert, hadn’t cared to meet any of his neighbors yet.
He opened the door to a woman holding a shovel and a handful of thick rope. She was
smiling sweetly, but when she noticed Trom, her smile faded dramatically.
“Where’s Joe?” she asked.
“Uhm, hi. I’m Trom, this is my house now. Joe moved away…”
“Really?” she looked him up and down, seemingly calculating, “Well… I have to check up on that
tree in the backyard, please.”
Of course, Trom had noticed the immense oak tree that grew in the backyard (it was one
of the reasons he liked the house), but he didn’t know it needed maintenance.
“Oh, uh, that’s fine, I guess. Meet me out back?”
The lady gave a little nod and walked around the house to the back. When Trom met her there, she was already doing her check-up. She seemed to know what she was doing, so Trom let her, watching.
“Hold this please,” the woman said distractedly, handing him the shovel.
Trom took it and watched as the lady stood on a box she’d found and reached for a low but thick branch of the oak tree. To it, she started tying one end of the rope.
“Why are you doing that?” Trom wondered aloud.
The lady went rigid, but Trom didn’t notice. Then she turned and gave him a little disapproving frown before saying:
“To check the… consistency, of course.”
“Uhm, okay,” replied Trom, only eager to get back to his cooling tea.
“Just hold on to that shovel, mister Trom,” she sighed, “You’ll need it soon.”
“Me? I thought you were going to use it…?”
“Oh, no. I won’t be able to,” she stated.
Confused, Trom held his tongue, and the shovel. He kept observing the lady as she tied
the other end of the rope into a loose knot.
Suddenly, she passed the loop around her head and kicked the box out from under her. Before Trom even realized what was happening, the noose she’d made quickly constricted
around her neck, effectively blocking her airways.
Trom couldn’t move. He was in such a shock, he couldn’t even think. His eyes saw, but
his mind didn’t register. There was a snake around the woman’s neck. It was withering,
tightening, hunting with an unstoppable cruelty. Trom stood motionless, losing track of time.
When he came to his senses, he jumped up and ran to the box, picking it up to place it
back under the woman. However, when he touched her to place her back on it, he felt that she
was limp, unmoving, and starting to turn cold.
“HEY!” a foreign voice shouted from Trom’s left.
He looked over. There was a neighbor he hadn’t met yet, looking over the fence at the
scene. The man held his phone in his hand. The silent wails of the damned registered slowly in
Trom’s mind, growing louder until a police siren and the sound of shrieking tires erupted brutally
from behind him.
Trom was still holding the shovel and the box.
Writer: Arielle Guay; Editor: Mia Bouchard; Pictures: Pinterest
