Comrades (standard:horror, 1704 words)
Author: Lev821	Added: Sep 13 2007	Views/Reads: 3315/2067	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
How will his old friend be after so many years apart? Some severed friendships are best not rekindled.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

schitzo. E¡¯ thinks folk are out to get ¡®im. The postman doesn¡¯t 
bother goin¡¯ up there any more. E¡¯ says he gets chased off the 
property. E¡¯ always sets ¡®is rottweiler on folk who trespass. Well 
¡®e used to, till it died. On the rare occasion e¡¯ gets mail, the 
postman leaves it ere¡¯ behind the bar, and I¡¯m the only one brave 
enough t¡¯ go up there an¡¯ post it. The last time I went up, he chased 
me off with the dog lead. Big chain it was. E¡¯ caught me on the elbow, 
fractured a bone. ¡®Ad to go t¡¯ casualty. Right barmy e¡¯ is. I think 
it all started back in the eighties when e¡¯ was burgled¡±. The barman 
nodded in agreement. ¡°E¡¯ came ¡®ome from somewhere one day t¡¯ find 
is ouse¡¯ in a mess. Money and anything valuable taken. Burglers 
thought they were onto something. So came back a few months later, when 
they thought e¡¯d forgetten about ¡®em. Ready for ¡®em e¡¯ was. Two of 
em, stabbed, tryin¡¯ to break into ¡®is kitchen. They certainly didn¡¯t 
do any more burglin¡¯ after that. Tommy got 2 years inside for that. 
E¡¯ came out more twisted and bitter, trustin¡¯ no-one. Thinks 
eveyone¡¯s out to rob ¡®im. Daft old fool¡±. Bob nodded. ¡°I was in the 
war with ¡®im. Maybe when ¡®e sees me, e¡¯ll be alright¡±. The other 
men looked at each other, saying nothing. ¡°Thanks, you¡¯ve been a 
great ¡®elp¡± said Bob, turning and walking out into the sun. He began 
walking up the winding slope that led to the house, and beyond, along 
the coast. Trees lined both sides of the lane, sunlight dappling his 
face as he went. First house on the right, he told himself as he 
walked. After about fifteen minutes, he came to what must be the place, 
on top of the crest of the lane, which continued northwards on a 
gradual downward slope. He stopped to regain his breath, dabbing his 
forehead with a handkerchief. The house was bigger than he thought, 
with white painted walls and grimy windows. A large gate barred 
entrance, but Bob found it easy to open. He was surprised how nervous 
he was feeling. After hearing what the two men in the pub had said 
about him, and the fact he hadn¡¯t seen him in nearly sixty years, he 
was glad nobody was around to see how uneasy he was. Before the house 
was a large area which was probably built for cars, but there were 
none. There was debris scattered around. Pieces of wood and metal from 
unknown machines were dotted around, untouched in years. He saw a 
rotting kennel, but it was obvious it had no occupant. He 
apprehensively approached the front door, and knocked as loud as he 
could. After a few moments, he knocked again, but the place was silent. 
He wondered if he might try around the back, and decided that while he 
was here, he might as well. The garden was in a decrepit state, and in 
serious need of attention. Grass and weeds were almost waist high, and 
like the front, it had debris scattered amongst it.  To his surprise, 
he saw that the kitchen door was open. It was somewhat a contradiction 
to what the two men in the pub were saying, so he wondered if they may 
have been exaggerating about him. He approached the door, took out his 
handkerchief again and wiped his brow. He also took out the letter to 
show Thomas he still had it. He leaned in and knocked on the door, then 
stepped back and waited. He then heard a familiar sound, a loud 
clicking. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you would resist my trap, you no good 
thief¡±, came a voice from behind. Bob didn¡¯t have time to turn 
around, to lay eyes upon his old friend again, when the shotgun was 
fired into his back, his chest exploding. Bob fell forward, sprawling 
on the few paving flags between the house and the garden. Thomas slowly 
stepped over, and looked down at the intruder. He had deliberately left 
the back door open as a temptation to any would be thief brave enough 
to trespass on his property, so he could mete out his own kind of 
justice. He saw the blood stained letter in the man¡¯s hand and bent 
down to pick it up. Leaning the shotgun against the wall, he unfolded 
it and read it. It gradually dawned on him just who this person was, 
and he looked down at the face of the supposed intruder, and 
recognition came to him. He stood there for a few moments, letting it 
all sink in. He then calmly stepped back to the shotgun, reloaded it, 
and turned it so it pointed at himself. He could not live with what he 
just done, and face a prison sentence, so had no hesitation in pulling 
the trigger. Bob would see Thomas again, but not in this world. 


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