“Flora” Part 3 – Short Story by Willy Martinez

Mad Men is a collection of three disturbing horror shorts from writers from the Midwest, specifically, Illinois. The themes explored in this collection range from man versus self, man versus man, and man versus creature.

“Flora” by Willy Martinez is the author’s first short story written for publication. It is included in the Mad Men anthology. Mad Men is a collection of three disturbing horror shorts from writers from the Midwest, specifically, Illinois. The themes explored in this collection range from man versus self, man versus man, and man versus creature.

We will be releasing the full short story in three parts. If you enjoy it and want to support the author or read the full anthology, check it out at Barnes and Noble.

Flora Part 3:

In his younger days, the man whom is now a boy, played alone during recess. Having his back turned to the other kids he sat at the end of the swing set, playing with his toys in a bed of yellow Taraxacums, or dandelions, under the warm sun and cloudless green sky.

“Hey fat boy, whatcha playing?” – He froze.

“My friend is talking to you” barks another boy as they closed in on him. He turns to notice three boys and a girl are now at his feet, smirking that evil smirk with their sharp little teeth. Just as he begins to push himself up to standing position, one of the mean boys runs up to kick him hard in the gut – his stomach was exposed. The pain shoots throughout his body, freezing his movement upwards and forcing him down in agony. He wants to cry for help but nothing. Gasping for air, he can barely let out anything more than a strenuous gust of a moan. He wants to place his hands on his stomach to comfort the physical pain, but he can’t. Two of the boys are now holding his arms down.

“Are you hungry, boy?” asked the girl sarcastically as she pulled weeds from the earth. “I’ll help you,” she says as the boys laughed hysterically. She shoves a handful of yellow dandelions into the boy’s mouth. Then another, and another, until she just couldn’t fit anymore without the boy spewing them out in self-defense.

Weeping now, with tears running down his face, the mean kids finally let him go and he drops down. Embarrassed and angered, he balls up his fists and turns to the tallest boy and swings with all his might. It’s blocked. The boy was just too slow. The tall kid takes the balled-up fist, grabbing it from the arm with both of his own arms and brings it closer to his face. Opening up his mouth widely, his small sharp canine teeth are on display as he surrounds the fat boy’s fist with his mouth. With swift action, he chomps down onto the boy’s hand like it’s a ham sandwich, piercing the flesh and tasting his blood. It looks sweet to him, like when you first take a bite of your favorite chocolate bar after a stressful day.

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*****

The stinging pain in his right hand brings him back to reality. He’s being dragged by his feet and legs, and his shirt is riding up his back. Only being able to look up and view the sky, he notices the clouds have mostly cleared and the moon is full. At the lower end of his peripheral he could see the tops of the grapevines. ‘I’m still in the fields’ he thought to himself.

The moon was full and shone bright blue across the clear sky and clearly lit the happy grimaced faces of the vineyard employees as they undressed the battered sack of limbs and meat. They dashed him to the earth- tore him up some more – flung him into the air – tossed him from one mandible to the next. The scent opened up, after a minute or so, to what can be strangely described as a sulfurous wet dog, wearing gym socks that had been stuffed with rotting meat.

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A couple of them broke out cigarettes, unbothered by their moist red hands, and continued to smoke until their blood-drenched cigarettes could no longer burn.

As he lay there, a helpless and delirious pile of battered lard, he wondered if the beautiful flowers in the small axillary clusters near him were of the amaranthus hybrids or amaranthus spinosus family.

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