30 LEGS OF DEATH.. A short story

in voilk •  3 months ago

    30 LEGS OF DEATH
    Written by
    Sister Love

    DARKNESS.
    Sounds of STIRRING, THRASHING. Then a man shouts out.
    MAN/HARRY (O.S.)
    HELP ME. I’m trapped.
    A smart phone RINGS.
    FADE IN:
    INT. BURIAL CASKET — NIGHT
    HARRY HULL, (30), in a polo shirt and slacks, lies on a bed
    of cotton fabric. He’s got a thin rat-like face and glasses.
    Cell phone RINGS and lights up. Harry struggles to respond.
    CALLER/RED (FILTERED)
    About time you woke up.
    The phone light dimly reflects off Harry’s glasses.
    HARRY
    Who is this?
    FACETIME. RED (25) has short red hair. A perky, round face.
    RED
    Remember me? Our date last
    night? drinks? drugs?
    Harry strains to move. The casket is sealed tight.
    HARRY
    No, I don’t remember a damn
    thing. Where the fuck am I?
    RED
    Maybe this’ll stir up
    memories.
    Red SCREAMS — a blood-thirsty shriek. Startles Harry.
    RED (CONT’D)
    That was my little sister
    when you date raped and
    tortured her. She couldn’t
    live with the shame, Harry.
    We buried her yesterday. I
    thought you should know.
    HARRY
    I’m sorry. Sorry you got the
    wrong guy.
    RED
    No, you’re the right guy.
    Harry continues squirming.
    RED (CONT’D)
    I hooked you up with another
    blind date. She’s more your
    type: a real predator.
    HARRY
    So you kidnapped me?
    RED
    Your date is Scolopendra.
    She’s in the casket with you.
    Harry stares at the phone screen. Sees a VIDEO of a
    GIANT CENTIPEDE
    munching on a dead rat. The video sound is muted.
    HARRY
    If this about money, I got
    none. You want my car? Go
    ahead, take my Honda.
    His nervousness builds. Ponds the casket.
    RED
    The Giant Centipede is a teninch throbbing arthropod.
    Thirty legs, mean attitude,
    lethal as hell and ugly as
    sin. The closest comp I could
    find to you, Harry. You and
    your rapist pecker.
    HARRY
    You’re lying. Trying to scare
    me. But it won’t work.
    Harry breathes harder, faster.
    RED
    A lie? Here’s another lie.
    You got about five minutes of
    oxygen left. Or less.

    HARRY
    What do you want from me?
    RED
    I set up a conference call
    with Detective Locke. I want
    her to hear your confession.
    HARRY
    Then you’ll let me go?
    Phone RINGING from a placed call. A CLICK at the other end.
    DETECTIVE LOCKE (O.S.)(MACHINE)
    You’ve reached Detective
    Jennifer Locke of the Perris
    PD. Leave your name, number
    and the nature of your call.
    HARRY
    This is Harry Hull. The
    Sundown Rapist. It’s over.
    I’m turning myself in. Today.
    There’s a sudden commotion in the casket. Like a mini-Battle
    Royale. The phone drops. Harry goes crazy.
    HARRY (CONT’D)
    Die you bitch. Die some more.
    Then it’s quiet. Harry shines the phone on the centipede.
    Crushed and beaten to death. He pants. CHUCKLES in relief.
    Harry glances at the phone: One percent battery life.
    HARRY (CONT’D)
    You got my confession. That
    was the deal.
    RED
    She has a big sister, you
    know. Wait till you meet her.
    They call her Satan’s Claw.
    Harry SCREAMS.
    THE END

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