'The Room' by Fu'ad Lawal

“Its a beautiful house you have here,” she said as she marveled at my greatest masterpiece.

“Thank you,” I said, “please make yourself comfortable. You have all weekend to check out the house.” I loved that she loved the house. Now I hoped she would stay longer than the weekend.

“So when will you show me around?” She asked a few drinks later.

I smiled.

“Get lost in the house. Makes it more interesting. But you should stay away from the last room on the right.”

She nodded as she took a long sip.

“So really, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a harvester.”

“Harvester?”

“Uhm, yes”

“What do you harvest?”

“Does it matter? By the way, I think you should shower,” I said quickly.

I showed her her room before going to mine.

My phone beeped, as expected. I knew curiosity would get the best of her. She would open the door. Turn on the lights. See the jars of choroform. Walk to the closet. She would see it and try to run. When she did, I was already waiting at the door.

“I really liked you and wished you would stay longer,” I said.

I saw the mortal fear in her eyes as she looked at my hand. In an instant, I swung my sickle across her neck.

A few minutes later, I was done harvesting. The kidneys, livers, all of it. The rest of her, I hung in the closet with thirteen other curious ones like her.

“You are welcome to my house,” I said to my new guest a weekend later.

Fuad Lawalis a poet and copy writer. He blogs at rebelliousflash300.wordpress.com

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