Contact Us      
         Join today or login
You are using an outdated version. Writing will not be shown properly in many cases. Click here to use the current version.

Status

New Here?
Sign Up
Fast! Three Questions.

Already a member?
Login


Contests

100 Word Flash Fiction
Deadline: In 2 Days

Haiku Poetry Contest
Deadline: In 3 Days

ABC Poetry Contest
Deadline: Mar 9th

6 Word Poetry
Deadline: Mar 13th

Cinquain Poetry
Deadline: Mar 16th


Rank

Poet: None
Author: None
Novel: None
Reviewer:None
Votes: None





 Category:  Horror and Thriller Fiction
  Posted: October 19, 2018      Views: 35

Print It
Save to Bookcase
View Reviews
Rate This
Make Reader Pick
Promote This


 ABOUT
LANCE POLIN 

Faceless yet voidless, with no form that can ever stop trying to grow. Some may call this survival instinct viral, or parasitic. Yet it is the only way to keep moving on . . .

Portfolio | Become A Fan
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Excellent
Not yet exceptional. When the exceptional rating is reached this is highlighted
A family that had already fallen apart continues downward.
"The Lonely Progress of Hunger" by Lance Polin



Gregory, also being dead, could remember when his brother was alive. He was his idol, more like a god than a blood relation. Their parents had died in The Great War, their father a brave soldier dissolved by mustard gas and their mother with the International Red Cross, helping the injured only to die of an infection one of them passed on. And so Samuel raised him.

This was difficult for both of them, Sam being only three years older, and just sixteen at that when he was given guardianship. And Sam was nowhere near as smart as Greg. But he was brave. He was strong. He would do anything to protect what was left of his family.

They had a sister too, Sissy her name was, and she was very young, two or three or four, and all she did was scream and cry. Gregory was the one who usually took care of her, Sam dropping out of school to get a job building the Great Northern Highway. And Greg had come to hate his little sister. She had never learned to speak. She ate everything put in front of her, whether it was food or not. She was still in cloth diapers, and they had run out of clean ones years before, having to wash the increasingly soiled rags over and over until they would finally fall apart. After that Sissy was treated like a dog, sent out in the back yard to do her business.

One day Sam came home and told his brother and sister that the railroad was finished and that there wasn't any more work. He said that they had to do something drastic. He told Greg to figure out how to make corn liquor so they would be able to survive.

At fourteen the only subject at school that Greg was not adept with was science. Chemistry in particular baffled him. He panicked over the idea and tried to tell Sam that he would never be able to do it, but Sam slapped him. Twice. He grabbed his younger brother by the shoulders and said, "If you don't figure out how to do this we're all gonna starve! Can you imagine what that little bitch will be like if we stop feeding her?"

They were silent for a moment. "That's it," Greg said. "Let's stop feeding her. If we run out of food and money I guess we can always eat her."

Sam eyed his brother and then simply nodded his head. "Make the hooch anyway. I want to get drunk."

And so Greg tried. He poured some paint thinner and lighter fluid and bacon fat into a pot and put it in the fire. He spit into it. He dumped some of the mounds that Sissy had left out back into his mixture. As a finishing touch he held her over the pot and let her pee into it. Then he tossed her into the pot as a last step and put the lid over it. It cut off her screaming immediately.

Greg fell asleep and Sam was drinking some moonshine he had gotten on his last day at work. He passed out in a chair. The mixture in the pot got very hot. The lid blew off. Everything lit on fire and it spilled out and spread and burned everything inside the house. By the end the bones of the whole family had charred so much that they could not be distinguished from the burnt shingles.

And the moral of the story is that you'd better know something before trying anything stupid.

Author Notes
The author thinks this series of horrible events is funny. He does not care about his characters in this tale at all and it was a great joy to torment them.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

Share or Bookmark
Print It Save to Bookcase View Reviews Make Reader Pick Promote This
© Copyright 2016. Lance Polin All rights reserved. Registered copyright with FanStory.
Lance Polin has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

You need to login or register to write reviews.

It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.

Interested in posting your own writing online? Click here to find out more.



Write a story or poem and submit your work to receive reviews on your writing. Publish short stories on our book writing site and enter the monthly contests. Guaranteed reviews for everything you write and you will be ranked. Information.


  Contact Us

© 2016 FanStory.com, Inc. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Statement