The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Found Him
by Kim Richards

Joan shivered when she stepped inside the square room. The cold was sharper than she expected in a windowless room with stone walls and floor. It’s chill started in the center of her chest and quickly traversed along her bones as if they were roads leading away from the middle point. Her flannel shirt and down jacket did nothing to prevent it.

She did her best to ignore her chattering teeth and moved towards the center of the room. There, covered in silvery cobwebs, sat a wood and iron chest and backpack.

Joan recognized the backpack. It belonged to her father, who disappeared ten years ago. Her search for him brought her to this place. She followed his itinerary from back then, spoke to people who remembered him, and followed any clue of deviation from his planned trip. He was prone to meandering, particularly when something peaked his interest. It took her to many destinations—some exotic, others dangerous, all of them interesting to her as well.

She sat on the dustless floor next to the backpack and brushed away the cobwebs. It’s red surface was marred from years of abuse. She mused how that backpack travelled more miles than most adventurous people do in their lifetimes. It saw abandoned temples, rebellions in the streets, and underground smuggling. Now it was here. Why isn’t Dad? she wondered Joan caressed the dry leather and then unlatched the two straps on the front. Then she flipped open the top flap. There was something round inside. She reached inside and wrinkled her nose as her fingers touched something light and stringy. Ugh. More cobwebs!

Not wishing spiders to crawl up her arms, she withdrew her hands and wiped them on her jeans. She climbed to her feet, picked up the backpack and upended it. She recognized the round thing the second it dropped to the floor and rolled to one side. It was a head. The spider webs inside must’ve been the long gray hair. It was tied in a top braid into a handle shape but stray strands fell down along the sides and back. Oh, geez. What would he want with a shrunken head?

Joan saw many of these in museums, particularly in an exhibit of mummies from around the world. Curious, she grasped the hair loop and lifted it to eye level. The skin was shriveled and brown. She noticed some tattooing on the cheeks and forehead. They were odd symbols she didn’t recognize. Yellow beads were sewn onto the lips and eyebrows.
A soft swishing sound from behind her caused her to turn. She saw her father. His bloodshot eyes were wild with wide pupils. His hair was matted and groin clothed in thin leather. He held his machete to one side in mid-swing.

Joan managed to cry out, “Dad!” before the blade severed her neck. Her head tumbled to the floor, followed moments later by her body. The last thing she heard was his crazed laughter.

Fiction © Copyright Kim Richards
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com