Flash Friday – Aftermath – Carolyn – Horror Rated R

Carolyn’s story is truly coming to an end.  The final part is planned for my post on Tuesday night.  All of the parts ( except 11) are contained on the Carolyn page listed at the top left of my blog.  Enjoy them.  For tonight, I have double-posted.  The first entry is 159 words.  When I finished I realized I had not followed the guidelines for the prompts at Flash Friday (hosted by Rebekah Postupak).  I then wrote the second one (159 words) which does.  Since they are all part of the saga, I have both posted below so you can fill in some blanks.  After reading them, please click > HERE < for all the other stories.  Enjoy!!!

Source: Gary Plant Tubular Steel Corporation, 1943. Public domain photo.

Vendetta and Aftermath

Carolyn and the others sat, looking at the corpses of night crawlers lying around.  Sheila checked the girls to see if they had scratches.  Carolyn did not have to be checked.  One finger nearly severed and two bite marks came from saving Jenny.

Jenny was crying and screaming, “No! No! No!” at everyone around her.  Carolyn finally got her to stop.

“It wasn’t your fault, dear.  I did what had to be done.  Now, I have to do what has to be done.”

Jenny hugged Carolyn so tightly it nearly hurt, but Carolyn did not mind; she understood.

Sheila took Jenny to herself and looked at Carolyn.

“So, no other way around it?”  She was tearing up, but holding on for the sake of the girls.

The others were in shock.  Carolyn simply shook her head.

“You all were brave.  Now, I need you to be brave one more time.”  She picked up her Beretta and checked the ammo.


Jenny turned the metal pole once more, welding the blade to the three foot rod.  She removed the welding glasses after turning the unit off.  She was glad they had managed to get into the high school and the shop department.  The equipment ran off of tank gas, so it was usable.

She admired the spear; it was sharp, pointed, and solid.  It would help her when they came back.  Her vendetta was strong.  She was not going to waiver.  Sheila had tried talking to her, but it had done no good other than strengthening her resolve.  She knew what she had to do.

The young teen put the spear next to the other seven and started on another one after placing her hand on the Beretta and hunting knife she now called her own.

Later, Jenny went to the back of the elementary home they all still shared.  She sat by the hand-dug grave a long time.




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