Simon Says

Fiction

Photo by Andrey Zvyagintsev via Unsplash

I drag his corpse through the woods like a lamb from the slaughterhouse, trudging through unforgiving thickets of brush and foliage. I can’t see where I’m going. My flashlight betrayed me tonight, making it impossible to know where I am or where the road is. But I’m not allowed to stop. I’m alive with horror — my fear speaking to me with a trill that bounced off its berating tongue.