Cracked Flash: A House Divided

by Michael Seese

So on Saturday I popped over to Cracked Flash to see what the prompt would be. I went a little outside the box by taking the prompt line, "I can't answer that--you'll beat me up," and making it the second sentence. (Though I haven't seen it written, I think the implication is it's supposed to be the first.)

Well, if I was wrong, I'm sure the Cracked folks will tell me. In the meantime, here is the creepy "A House Divided."


“It's a simple question, really. Just tell me where you hid the body.”

"I can't answer that. You'll beat me up."

Another stalemate. At times like these I could never tell if he truly was psychotic, or merely toying with me.

“And it's plural.”

“Pardon?”

“Bodies. You should have used the plural,” he said, grinning deliciously.

Toying it is.

We'd been playing this game -- he and I -- for so long that we'd become like an old married couple, carrying out conversations for which we already knew the endings. Though I suppose a better analogy would be two aged chess masters, who had squared off so many times over the years that they merely flipped through their mental Rolodexes and referenced the appropriate match.

December 12, 2011. Pawn to Bishop 4. How pedestrian.

Perhaps this time I could elicit an error in his game.

“Let’s talk about you. Have you done anything interesting of late?” I asked.

“No. Other than trolling the brothels down in the East End.”

“You enjoy frequenting establishments such as those.”

“You would know as well as I.”

I grew weary of the conversation, and punched the mirror, superstition be damned. Shards of glass rained to the floor in advance of several drops of my blood. I bandaged my knuckles with the pair of woman's panties that just happened to be in my pocket.

I sighed.

Now I guess we'll never know where the bodies are.

The clock on the mantel chimed. It was time to go to work.

As I slithered into my vestments, I prayed that one day he would come to the confessional. It would end so much pain. So much suffering.

But he never did. And so, I remained relegated to levying “Hail Marys” on the true sinners.


As always, I welcome your comments.