May of Twenty Thirty

A short horror story

Springtown, Oklahoma

His mother looked at him sternly, trying desperately to fight off a giggle and stop a smile that threatened to ruin this little lesson of paying the price for what he’d done wrong.

Sitting at the kitchen table, looking out the big windows at the thunderstorm on this dark day, Brian Moore knew he was in trouble for lying…again. He just wasn’t sure how much trouble. He watched his mom’s face, it was always a true sign of what was to come.

Laurie Moore turned her back on him and went back to emptying the dishwasher. Let him stew a little, she thought.

He stared at her anyway, watching for body language, anything to foretell his fate. His expression was solemn, awaiting sentencing by the judge.

Outside, the sound of hard rain was replaced by the hail. Sharp tic-tacks at first, then thuds as the hail got larger. This pulled Brian’s attention away from watching his mom. He was always fascinated with hail. What made this even more fascinating was the size of the hail, and the fact that Mr. Hallstrom and Mrs. Hallstrom from next door, were running around in Brian's backyard.

He stole a quick glance at his mom’s back. She seemed done unloading the dishwasher and was still standing with her back to him.

Movement from the window again caught Brian’s attention. There was a chest high, neatly trimmed boxwood hedge that separated their backyard from the Hallstrom’s. A section of it was gone, trampled and crushed. Brian thought about that. It must be how their neighbors had entered, because Lynne Hallstrom had a big piece of the broken off hedge tangled around one of her ankles.

Brian watched in amazement as a baseball sized piece of hail struck Mr. Hallstrom right smack dab in the forehead, causing smeared watery blood to cascade down his face. It didn’t faze him a bit though, as he continued to chase his wife with a large ball peen hammer.

“Mom?” He pointed out the window at the much slower but determined Mr. Hallstrom plodding after Lynne Hallstrom. “Look.”

Brian was relieved when his mom turned to him. Her eyes were not stormy or angry, they were bright and cheery. She was smiling. He would surely get off with good behavior.

Out of Brian’s sight temporarily, Lynne slid and lost her footing on the wet grass and Mr. Hallstrom toppled onto her. She screamed silently into the closed windows, thunder and lightning. One strike, two strikes and Hallstrom was not slowing down. Oh no, he was just getting started.

Brian was missing all of that because his own small smile faded as his Mom’s got bigger and bigger. He couldn’t break his look away from his Mom.

The grin was not right. Her mouth was so wide it looked ready to split or something. Her eyes were wide and bulging now. The white in her eyes clearly visible all the way around. Like one of his dad’s golf balls with a logo in the middle of it.

Something was wrong with his Mom. He heard a heavy thump on the safety glass window behind him. Now he was getting scared. Scared to look out the window at his backyard and scared to look at his mom.

Laurie Moore came around the marble topped island counter, did a friendly rolling finger type of wave to Mr. Hallstrom, who was now looking straight into the Moore kitchen. Seeing, but not seeing. His look was dazed and dull.

She stopped walking and stared at her son. Her hand moving the large imported carving knife back and forth like the hand on a swinging metronome.

Brian rose slowly from his chair, the legs of it protesting loudly on the floor as he scooted out.

A heavier thump on the window behind him, but he didn’t look, and it was just as well. Mr. Hallstrom was out there laughing now. Hysterically.

His mom’s mouth had actually split. There was a small drip of blood coming from each corner where the skin had torn. Still the smile grew. She tilted her head to the side, coyly. She said it with love, in a tone as warm and smooth as a Christmas morning. “Oh, come here you little stinker.” Her arms were open and welcoming, except for the Miyabi blade in her right hand.”

Brian darted a look at the hallway off the kitchen that led to the garage door.

His mother’s amazing, awful grin was burning a hole through him..

Another thump on the window behind him, much heavier and louder this time. More like a muffled boom.

She chuckled deeply, “Come here now…right now…you little shit.”

He started left. She followed, but it was a feint move and he went right instead. Down the hallway and frantically twisting the doorknob to the garage. He slammed it shut on the tips of two of her fingers, hit the garage door opener and jumped on his bike.

And so it all began. The very first incident reported. What would later be called The Springtown Outbreak.

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