Slutgarden
by Eric Grizzle

   The moon seemed to be following him through the foliage. David looked back over his shoulder and glanced at the orb high above the low Texas tree line. It was dimpled and nearly full- stained orange like an overripe pumpkin. He shifted the sack to his other shoulder with a grunt and continued forward. David was a big guy- well over 6 foot and muscular from years of working the land and hauling scrap metal from the shop to the recyclers. There was a rustle from within the heavy burlap sack and he sat the item on the ground. It was deathly still in the moonlight.

   His father was ailing and not able to run the automobile shop like he used to. David had no qualms about taking over the duties of running the shop and all of the paper work. However, it was the physical aspect that he enjoyed the most. The sack moved again. He kicked it with a well-placed work boot and the movement stopped. The sound of a car approaching this stretch of desolate freeway made him look back towards the road. His vehicle, a common tan 1980s Cadillac, was parked well off the road in a small clump of tired brush and Cottonwoods. The vehicle passed by without slowing and he hefted the bag up over his shoulder again. It wasn’t far now.

   The night was humid and fog seemed to paint every blade of grass. The clearing was abrupt after wading through the dense foliage. Sometimes there were alligators out here somehow wondered far from the bayous and comfort of far south lands. Occasionally, when a teenager turned up in pieces or a young child came up missing, it was blamed on misplaced gators in middle Texas and the public seemed content with that explanation. No one looked too carefully into small town life these days.

   David opened the bag and pulled the woman out. She was just like the others. Just a waste of air and space. A fucking slut like his mother had been. She rolled over and cried in her stupor, the leather skirt riding up over the black thong she wore. David tore it off, placing it in his back pocket with the rolled up bag. The crickets were chirping in nocturnal ecstasy. He had found her at a strip bar three counties over. After spending sixty dollars and a few well-received pick up lines, he found her waiting for him at closing time.

   In his pickup, she had asked if he had any coke or any other drugs with a giggle. He had reached over and smacked her with his right hand, feeling the bridge of her nose crack under the force. She screamed and tried the door, the handle coming off in her hand.

   "Stupid bitch," he said with a grin. "I’m the better of two evils. Tonight, you’ll see God." David pulled a gun from under the seat and hit her in the head with it until she passed out, her heavily made-up face smearing the driver’s side window.

   She moaned again on the dewy ground, moving her left hand up to her blood stained head. The moon was bloated above them, hazy and unfulfilled. David stripped in the chill and folded his clothes neatly on a rock.

   "mmmpfh… where.. where.. god, my head…"

   "Shh," he replied. He stepped towards her, his ass gleaming palely in the moon’s embrace.

   David lay down with her, carefully spreading her legs around his torso. She would be perfect for the garden. He began to plow and till the earth, sweat mixing with the dewy ground, grunting in effort and feeling the night fresh on his back. Tomorrow, she would be the promise of a fertile return.

©2003 Eric Grizzle

Eric Grizzle lives in Denton, Texas and attends the University of North Texas - majoring in English and hopefully attending graduate school next year for Creative Writing. He has had stories published on The House Of Pain, Savage Night and Dreadful Dreams.