Tevun-Krus #36 - A Very Merry SteamPunk Christmas

Grinding Gears - A Short Story by @MadMikeMarsbergen

1

BILLY shoved Mommy backwards into the steam-powered potato-mashing machine. She did a little flip and fell in feetfirst. He grinned as she screamed. Her face was a mask of extreme pain as her bones were ground-up and her blood sprayed against his face. The machine chugged and clunked to a halt. A grinding sound came from it, like it was really struggling to do the job.

Billy shrugged, closed the door, and went out to play in the snow.

2

"HAVE you seen your mother, Billy?" Daddy asked him, standing at the window with a worried expression on his face.

"Uh-uh," Billy said, suppressing a smirk. He thought back to earlier when he'd pushed Mommy into the machine. It'd served her right for being mean. She said he couldn't get the new Steam Soldier action figure for Christmas. Even when he'd cried she'd still said no. It hadn't made any sense to him. Mommy always gave in when he cried. But now she was gone. In the machine. That would show her. "I think she went out, or something," he lied.

"Hmm. But where? Her car's in the driveway. It's almost dinnertime." Daddy shook his head and went to the freezer. "You feel like a pot roast in the microwave, Billy-boy?"

"Sure, Daddy!" Billy loved microwaved pot roast. He went back to doodling a picture with his old set of Steam Crayons. The colour was super-heated onto the page, or something. It looked cool. He was drawing Mommy dead on the ground, cut up into a million pieces. But he'd made her hair brown instead of red, so Daddy wouldn't know he was really drawing Mommy.

"Violent picture, Billy," Daddy said, blinking and smiling as he came around to see what he was doing.

Billy giggled but stopped when he thought he heard a high-pitched, metallic-sounding squeal come from another room in the house. It sounded like that grinding noise from earlier.

3

BILLY didn't sleep well that night. He kept hearing the machine shrieking through the walls. And the wind howled. The shadows on his wall kept moving and looked like a man with a hook coming to kill him.

And Mommy kept talking to him, saying, "Billy... Billy... Help me... I'm hurt... Get help, Billy... Please..."

But he ignored that. Eventually, he went into Daddy's room and asked if he could sleep in the bed with him. He fell asleep beside Daddy, feeling safe, happy that all the snow coming down would mean there would be lots to play with in the morning. A small part of him missed Mommy. Maybe the lesson he'd taught her had been too much. Maybe he should have punished her in a smaller way first.

4

"I'M worried about your mother, Billy," Daddy said the next day. "Where could she be? It's not like her to be gone this long, without telling me..."

"Maybe she got lost somewhere. Or hurt," Billy said. He was putting on his snow pants. Lots of snow had fallen, so it would be lots of fun out there. "I'm gonna make a fort. Wanna help, Daddy?"

"Hmm? Nah, you go on out, slugger. I'll watch from the window."

Billy opened the door and felt the gust hit his face. Then he heard the noise again. And Mommy calling for him. He looked at Daddy to see if he'd heard, too, but Daddy was rubbing his forehead and staring at his phone.

Billy shrugged and went outside to play in the snow.

5

WHEN Billy came back inside, he saw Daddy crying at the dinner table. "What's wrong, Daddy?" he asked.

"Your mother..." Daddy held up a ring. "H-Her r-r-ring!" That last word made him cry even harder. Snot came out of his nose. He looked very ugly to Billy, very weak. "I found it on the floor... Sh-She never takes it off... Where is she, Billy? Where?"

"How should I know?" Billy tugged off his snow pants and went to his room. He could still hear the machine grinding its gears. And Mommy calling him. "Shut up, Mommy! Go die already!"

6

IT was Christmas Eve. Daddy had called the police and they were out looking for Mommy. They even had dogs sniffing around for her scent and looking in the woods.

Billy just wanted everyone to go away and for Daddy to stop crying so much. If he would've known what a hassle everything would be without Mommy, he never would've pushed her into the machine in the first place.

But Christmas Eve was good because it was tradition for Billy to open one present early.

"You sure you want to do this, Billy?" Daddy asked, his eyes still red and moist with tears. "It's okay if you don't. You don't have to."

"Sure, Daddy. I want my present," Billy said. He selected one from Mommy and ripped the wrapping paper. It was a lame pair of shoes. He held the box up without much enthusiasm, then tossed it aside and crossed his arms.

Daddy dropped his head into his hands and shook. A sob escaped him. "Sh-She showed me them after she bought them!"

A bang from the hallway. A thump, and another.

"What was that?" Daddy asked, suddenly alert. He stood and reached for a chair, which he held by its back so the legs were facing out. "Who's there?"

Another thump—closer this time—was the only reply.

Then: "Billy... Help me... Please..."

"Did you hear that?" Daddy asked, stepping closer to the darkened hallway, readying the chair.

"Let's go, Daddy. Let's just leave this dumb house," Billy said.

A hand reached out through the darkened hallway and dug its nails into the wooden floorboards. Then the other. They dragged what was behind them forwards.

"Holy shit!" Daddy shouted, mouth agape.

It was Mommy, patches of hair ripped from her raw red scalp, cheeks sunken, one eye out of focus and covered in a thin grey film, hard black blood all over her, dragging her mangled and emaciated torso along behind her. "Billy... Help me... Please..."