A Horrific Short Story
Word Count:  3.3K
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Something lives in the big black plastic garbage bag. Something that isn't human. Something that depends on the goodwill of others to provide it with food. Fortunately, it's not particular if its meal is dead, long dead...or alive.


            Smiling his wicked smile, Jack let the corpse slide from his grasp and watched as it slid like a boneless sack of skin onto the ground. The tall weeds were perfect for cleaning his hands and the blade of his knife before proceeding. Staring at the body as he finished wiping himself off, Jack watched to make sure the old man had gone over. Canít screw up and leave it still breathing. Curiously, though, a dead hand still clutched the black garbage bag, as if refusing to part with it.      

            A quick search failed to find a wallet or anything of value, but Jack hadn't expected to discover anything on the body in the first place. The guy was simply a misfortunate target. Someone who had caught his eye, and looked like the perfect victim. What was curious, however, was the lack of any sort of identification.

            "Guess I'll just have to call you That Old Geezer from now on," he informed the body and laughed at his own joke.

            Giving the corpse a nudge with the toe of his boot, Jack glanced toward the roadway to see if any headlights approached. He saw none and thanked himself for another job well done.          

            One good shove with his foot sent the body down the short embankment and out of direct line of sight from the road. The garbage bag was another matter. Throwing trash on the side of the road was illegal in this state. It could lead the authorities to the body before Jack had a chance to flee. There was always a dead carcass of some animal struck during the night and left lying on the roadside. But leave a black plastic garbage bag fluttering in the breeze, and the first cop car to cruise by would stop to investigate. Open it up and check the contents to see what dumbass was stupid enough to leave something inside with a name or address, giving the police an easy someone to blame.   

            Jack paused, remembering how the guy's hand refused to let go of the sack. Maybe it was because there was something of value he could pawn or use inside. Sighing, he pried the bag from the old man's fingers. Lifting the sack, he started back to his car to toss it into the trunk to examine later. After he'd checked it out he'd find a dumpster somewhere to deposit what was left. 

            Without warning, the bag shifted.