Murder stained Grace’s hands red, but blood was her least problem. She had to dispose of the body of a six-foot-tall man. Her deceased husband was too heavy to transport from the upstairs bedroom, where she’d stabbed him, out to the car, too heavy to shove in the attic from the ladder. A winch? No pulley.
She rolled him in a blanket and pulled him down the stairs by his ankles. A crowbar worked for prying the floorboards in the living room. She stuffed in the body and threw the rug back.
The doorbell rang. Her in-laws, come to chat. She’d say anything. She only needed a day to drain the accounts and buy a flight. She heard Argentina was the place to vanish.
A fly appeared. Grace waved it away. It landed on the carpet. Another fly circled her father-in-law’s head and joined the first.
She killed both flies with a rolled magazine, scooped them up, and threw them away in the kitchen. By the time she returned, twenty flies buzzed in a knot above the carpet, and her father-in-law was on his knees, wondering out loud about the insects.
Now where would she put two more bodies?
The Meta-Story: This is one of two flash fiction pieces I wrote for this story. I wasn’t satisfied with either. Here’s the link to the other, Chilly Reception.
Sunday Photo Fiction: 200-word stories
photo prompt: A Mixed Bag