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Flash Friday 19/08/2016: A Place To Die For

August 19, 2016

A knock came from the office door.

Trevor looked over from his computer. “Come in,” he said.

The door opened. A tall, built man entered the room, dressed head to toe in spiked leather, his face covered by a white hockey mask. He carried a large machete in one hand and a full, bloody sack in the other. He crossed the office towards Trevor’s desk and took a seat opposite, placing the machete onto the desk and the sack beside him.

Then he waited.

Trevor finished typing something on the computer before smiling at the newcomer. “Ah, yes. I was expecting you in another ten minutes, but starting early is not a problem. Let’s see here…” Trevor peered at his screen, scrolling with his mouse wheel. “Ah, here we go. ‘Jacob T. Slasher’, am I correct?”

Jacob gave a single nod.

“Excellent. Yes, I remember you. You were the one enquiring about the treehouse residency, weren’t you?”

Another nod.

“Yes. Well, I’m sorry to say it, but we had a witch come in just a few days ago. She loved that property so much, she handed the deposit over there and then. You know what witches are like; they always like those sort of treehouse-type residencies, don’t they? You understand, don’t you?”

Jacob reached for his machete.

“Ah, wait a minute!” Trevor added quickly. Jacob paused mid-grab. “Before you, uh, do something drastic, I took the liberty of finding other suitable abodes for you. Ones that matched the conditions you specified to begin with. Well, would you like to see them?”

Jacob let go.

“Excellent. Then let’s get started. I noted you were looking for somewhere that was reclusive and out-of-the-way, so I had a look around and discovered this beautiful shack in the middle of the woods.” Trevor turned the monitor to face Jacob, showing a run-down wooden building surrounded by fog and trees. “Very iconic piece. Very classic. Many serial killers before you made good use of shacks. Nice and remote, nobody around to hear the screams, dark and brooding. Plus, it’s bills inclusive.”

Jacob nodded with approval.

“Good, good. Glad you like it. There is this other property I found; much less remote than what you asked for, but I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to tell you about it. Old meat packing facility, very large, very spacious. Previous owners didn’t remove the meat hooks, so you’ll have plenty of places to store corpses. Fridge still works, hidden away in a suburb, and — yes — while it is technically near a city full of people, that only means that you’re, hah.” Trevor gave a smirk. “Only means less of a commute to your work, doesn’t it?”

Jacob gave a single laugh at this joke. He pointed to the warehouse on the monitor and gave a thumbs-up.

“Glad to hear it. Yes, we have many a serial killer come in here looking for the perfect place to stay, so we always have a, how do you say it, certain premonition about what they like in a home. Would you like to make a deposit now, or do you want to look around the property first?”

Jacob simply ducked down toward his bloody sack. He began to draw out skulls from it, placing them in a row along the desk.

“Oh, awfully sorry,” Trevor said. “We don’t take trophies as payment.”

Jacob snorted with annoyance, scooping all of the skulls back into the sack with one sweep. Digging into his wallet (made of skin), Jacob drew out a credit card.

Trevor peered at the card. “Yes, yes, we accept MurderCard. This is all well and good. All I need is to enter the details into the computer and…there. You should be able to move in within the next week or so. Hope you, uh…” Trevor said, as he handed back the card. “Hope you make a killing at your new place, eh?”

Jacob’s face was entirely hidden behind the mask, yet he still gave a face as if he had heard that one far too many times before. He simply took his things and stood.

“Make sure to, ah, paint the town red, eh?”

No response; Jacob simply kept walking until he was out of the office.

Trevor shrugged the moment the door closed. The veterans of the trade had heard all the jokes before, but it never hurt to try. Actually, if he made a joke that was especially bad, sometimes it did hurt to try. But it didn’t stop him.

Trevor looked over his schedule. Jacob’s promptness meant that Trevor had a little time before his last two appointments of the day; the space alien secretly studying the human race, and a governmental lizardmen who wanted to keep on the low. Both known to be particularly fussy clients, but they always bought the higher-priced properties, so it was well worth the effort. For now though, he could do with some coffee; and maybe disinfect his entire desk while he was at it.


835 words

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4 Comments
  1. Interesting idea!

    I noticed a small typo:

    >known to be particularly clients<
    should probably be

    known to be particularly fussy clients,

    Thanks for sharing!

  2. You always have a nice twist. Giving you a shout out on my Monday blog.

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