The Orchard

Thriller Stories | Mar 28, 2013 | 8 min read
56 Votes, average: 4 out of 5
Randy was alone. A cold tear rolled down from the crusty ducts of his eyes, past the stubble on his cheek and down to his chin, where it silently fell onto his shirt. It had been exactly one week since his wife left him. She was tired of his problems, tired of him in general really. He wasn't raking in any money from his apple orchard and she was tired of living in his poverty. The man wore dirty overalls everyday for Christ's sake. He was as broken and old as the rusty wheel barrel they used to pick his apples. She just couldn't handle the lifestyle of a poor farmer's wife. Yet, she was all Randy had in his life. The only thing that mattered anyway. Sure, he loved his wife. But she loved money more. So he sat in the darkness, in the cob webbed corner of his tool shed, sucking down whiskey like a suicidal Irishman. He wiped the tears from his eyes, and put his aching head back against the wall as he drifted to sleep.

Randy awoke the next morning, still sitting in the shed. He sniffed up the mucus hanging from his nostril, and let out a pathetic whimper caused by his raging hangover. He opened the door and took a peer outside. It was very early in the morning, around 5:30 am. The sun wasn't up yet, but a faint light shrouded the sky, creating a dim glow of blue the radiated over the vast horizon of his orchard. The crooked and hanging branches of the apple trees looked like giant spider legs in the distance, and a low hanging fog surrounded the trunks. The fog was thick, very dense and moist. It came to about knee height, and chilled Randy's legs, even through his raggy overalls. It was a bit of a creepy sight, but Randy wasn't a superstitious individual. He was never afraid of the dark as a child, and never believed in religion. He figured the devil was not a being that dwells in a fiery domain, rather that mankind's selfishness was the true devil. From the dense fog, a crack of a tree branch echoed into his ears. He quickly raised his head to look for movement. Perhaps a trespasser on his property? It wouldn't be the first time a rambunctious kid or a sneaky vegetarian came to snatch some free apples. Randy grabbed his trusty double barreled shotgun and jogged out into the orchard to catch the culprit.

He circled around the trees quickly, but in a stealthy manner. He didn't want to scare off the trespasser as much as he wanted to take his anger out on someone who crossed him. Call him old school, but he love to hurt people who intended to hurt him. An eye for an eye, but best of all was just taking the other guy's eye. After a few laps around the trees, he gave up. Fatigue from his hangover and the thought that the guy got away was enough to make Randy quit. Maybe he would just set up bear traps and really make the bastard suffer. The fact that his wife left him brought out the cruel monster in Randy. Bordering on insanity. He leaned on the trunk of a tree, knelt down and caught his breath. A tough thing to do, when you gain weight and guzzle bottles of whiskey everyday. He unloaded his gun as he hiked uphill to his house. It was an old place, with creaky wooden floors and shabby looking furniture. However, it was home to Randy, and that's what made it so warm and cozy to him. He went in, through his tiny kitchen to his living room. There, he sat upon his favorite chair, plush with thick cotton cushions. His little, old, box shaped television flickered on. He watched some random show about cooking, but he really wasn't paying attention. Having voices from the TV fill the house made it seem a little less lonely. He mostly just sat with a big glass bottle of alcohol in his clutches, staring at the wallpaper and occasionally sipping from the bottle. He no longer had a sense of entertainment or duty. He hadn't worked in the field since his wife left, hadn't cleaned the house or payed any debts. Farmers tend to plummet in debt when they don't have a good harvest.

The TV flickered into static about every five minutes. A brief moment of snow on the screen, then the show returned. Randy looked at the clock on the wall. 7:53 pm. He sat on the couch all day, and to him it only felt like an hour. The sun had already went down, and the sky was pitch black. No stars, no moon. Not even an occasional airplane. The TV was completely static now. Loss of signal, or broken appliance, Randy did not care. He got up and walked to the kitchen. A window above the sink gave an open view of the orchard down hill. As Randy looked, he noticed the fog had not lifted. It seemed even thicker now. He could barely see the outlines of the trees in the orchard, and as he looked, he saw something amoung the trees. A the outline of a man, standing still in the fog. It didn't move, it just stood in the orchard. Randy felt anger and excitement in the same moment. "That ballsy bastard.... He dare come back after I chase him off?!" he said. Randy grabbed his gun, a rain coat, and a large flashlight. The backdoor slammed against the house as he marched out to the orchard, rage fueling his every step. As he reached the edge of the trees, he saw that the figure was gone. There was no one there. He felt his eyes widen as he hunted for the mysterious man. But, as before, the orchard was empty. There was only the trees, the apples, and the thick fog out there with him. Randy was curious, but his curiosity slowly transformed into a sense of fear. Was this person stalking him? Was it some thief, waiting to steal something from him? Was it some freak who wanted to play a joke on him? What the hell was going on?!

Puzzled, he swiped the light from his flashlight from left to right, ever so slowly. As he did, the saw the man, standing beside the tree. He was looking right at Randy. Randy wanted to say something, but after seeing the details of the man, his fear choked the words and kept them in his throat. The man wasn't a man. It looked more like a corpse. The skin was dark grey, and loosely hanging from his face. There were patches of flesh missing from the face, rotting and bloodied bone poke from the gaps. The eyes were sunken in, they were tiny and completely white. The lips were not present, yellow tinted teeth showed with black spotted gums. One of the ears was missing, and patches of thin grey hair hung from the top of the scalp. It wore very dirty denim overalls, and a dark maroon flannel shirt. It stood perfectly upright, head tilted down, eyes staring directly at Randy.

Randy's mouth was open and his eyes were frozen on the creature. His heart raced, pounding against his rib cage as if it wanted to escape. He slowly stepped backwards, then too another step, then another. His steps gained speed, turning into a trot, but his eyes and the light were fixed on the creature. The thing never moved, it just turned its head and its gaze followed Randy. Eventually, Randy met the door to his house with his back. He quickly darted his eyes to find the handle, then looked back towards the orchard. The thing was gone.

He hurried to open the door and slam it shut, locking the bolt and supposedly protecting him from the monster. His breath was spastic and shaky. He walked to the sink and splashed cold water on his face. "That wasn't fucking real." he said. "It was just a fucking dream. It wasn't real." Then, he heard a moan. It sounded like a raspy breath bellowing from an old man. Randy looked up and saw the creature, staring at him, wiping blood from its hand all over the window. He shot back and screamed loudly, smashing into the counter and knocking over a rack of eating utensils. Forks, spoons, and knives chimed as the bounced on the wood floor. he fell down, grabbing a steak knife and scrambling back to his feet. The thing wasn't at the window anymore, but the blood smeared on it was a reminder that it was real. Randy was panting like a dog, holding his knife with a shaking hand. At the other end of the kitchen, it was completely dark. Pitch black darkness. His eyes focused on the dark, waiting for the thing to pop out and come at him. He stood there, staring at the darkness with extreme anxiety. All was quiet. He slowly walked backwards, into the living room. His eyes were trained on the dark part of the kitchen. The television turned on, blaring the noise of static and making Randy jump. As he looked back at the kitchen, the creature was standing right in front of him now. Randy screamed and jumped back, then slashed the knife across the thing's chest. The clothing tore, an the rotten flesh opened, but no blood came from the wound. It looked Randy right in the eye, not expressing any pain or anger. Then it walked toward him. All throughout the night, Randy's screams and cries of pain echoed in the house, the orchard, and the sky.

Randy's wife drove onto the driveway in her blue pickup truck, her timid lawyer exited the vehicle with her. They walked up to the front door, divorce papers in hand. "Mr. Geere, this is Rachel's lawyer. We are both here to get your signature on the legal separation papers." After ten minutes, there was no answer. The lawyer looked a Rachel. She simply shook her head, saying "That pathetic old bastard's probably drunk off his ass right now." As they entered the house, the TV was on, static on the screen, and a horrible smell radiating from all around. Disgusted, they both walked to the kitchen, finding a pool of blood soaked in the floor. Rachel gasped and held her hand to her mouth. The lawyer stared at the blood with amazement. Blood smeared off into a trail, leading out the backdoor. The lawyer set his clipboard on the counter and walked along the trail to the door. Rachel reached out and told him not to go outside. However, he grabbed the handle and opened the door. Blood trailed from the door, out onto the lawn, and into the orchard. He walked along the blood, calling out to Randy. No answer. The lawyer entered the orchard, following the blood like a detective. It lead to a tree with low hanging branches and a thick ring of fog around it. At the base of the trunk, was Randy's body. The arms and legs were severed, laying on the ground. The torso was pinned to the tree with large carpenter's nails. The head was raised up, as if looking toward the top of the tree. The eyes were wide and pointed up. The mouth was open and stretched so that the lips tore where they met. Blood dripped from the nose, mouth, eyes, and ears.

From that day forward, the orchard was closed. The wife was silent. And the farm was abandoned.

THE END.

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Alexandria Apr 11, 2013

That was awesome! Very enjoyable! Thank you for posting! (:

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