Horror storys

A last note

Let it choke on my bones.



*



Layton finished the letter with the broken nub of the pencil and rolled up the paper with shaking hands. Slowly and with resolve he leaned forward and got to his knees in the middle of the lazily rocking boat. Moving like a man twice his age, he leaned over the rigid crewman and began to turn him over, gently as possible. There was a strange cry, almost a sob, and a desperate motion of knotted joints and elastic muscles below him. A dull yet sharp pain entered him and took the wind from his lungs.



Roberts pushed harder on his elbows and the sharp wood of the broken oar he’d been grasping pierced deeper into Layton’s sunken abdomen. The emaciated man dropped the piece of paper and rolled on to his back, breathing shallowly and mouthing something inscrutable. Roberts breathed quickly and leaned against the stern, watching the man slowly dying. The god below had been speaking to him, whispering at night and warning him of the physician. He had noticed the way the man had been looking at him, how he was eyeing him for murder and consumption.



He had not wanted to believe it, but the Voice had assured him of danger. So, he had tested the man, feigning weakness over the days. His fellow had failed the trial. He would do what he had to, by God, and he would survive. He felt the boat gently rock and saw the familiar shimmer, his guardian, slowly rising. He crawled over the now stilled doctor.



In the inscrutable fog, a bell tolled as a ship drew near.



The waters churned, echoing laughter.