A Proud And Bloodstained Family Business

20261008

Written for the Second Indulgence, Prompt #5

Rain pattered on the cabin’s tin roof, the perfect counterpoint to the fire crackling in the stove. Mildred hummed contentedly to herself, her needles clacking in time to the slow rocking of her chair.
All was peace and quiet until the door burst open and a seven foot tall, burly figure in a heavily stained black hoodie and work trousers stepped in, his heavy breathing causing puffs of steam to jet from the nostrils of the old, battered troll mask he was wearing. Water dripped from the machete clutched in his hand and oozed from his leather work boots.
He slammed the door behind him, dropped the machete into the umbrella stand, and fumbled his mask off to hang it up. Grumbling to himself the whole time.
“Oh dear.” Mildred set her knitting aside. “Didn’t go well, then? Here, let me put the kettle on.”
“Thanks, mum.” Mike collapsed into his chair and stretched his wet socks towards the fire. “Ugh! You wouldn’t believe the lousy luck I’ve had tonight.”
“Teenagers these days do seem far too cautious.” Mildred shook her head and tsked. “Can’t think it’s good for them. And it’s downright terrible for us.”
“Right? Weather was lovely when I set out, figured they’d be all over the woods, but no!” Mike shook his head and huffed. “Sitting in their cabins. Kids these days! They come out to the woods and stay in a campsite with a bunch of others their age and they’re on their bloody phones!”
“Honestly! Their parents should be ashamed.”
“And then I finally see one wandering off, going down to the lake no less, think I’m actually going to get a good opening… and she’s filming herself going night swimming.” Mike rolled his eyes. “Well, it’s something, at least. A proper adventure. Even if I do end up standing there for like fifteen minutes while she takes and retakes her bloody intro. Wasn’t any good, either.”
“Oh, whatever happened to just creating a moment and enjoying it?” Mildred grumbled, spooning leaves into the teapot. “It’s all about, what is it, ‘content’ these days. Ugh.”
“Yeah. I tell myself well, at least it’ll be a great calling card. I’ll grab her just as she gets back to shore, kill her just out of the camera, leave the device for her friends to find. Ought to scare them and the police.”
Mildred chuckled fondly as she wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. “You always were good at rolling with things, poppet. Maybe you should’ve gone into improv theatre.”
“Might as bloody well, at this point! Because there I am, lurking in the underbrush by the shore… she’s swimming back… and then, just as she’s getting close, something drags her under! Turns out that slimy bitch Ophelia decided to go hunting on my side of the lake!”
“Ooooh!” Mildred fumed, then quizzically asked “Which one’s Ophelia?”
“Frog woman.”
“Oh, her.” Mildred’s brow smoothed out. “I quite liked her. Far better than most of the girls you brought home.”
“You would say that.” Mike grumbled, hunching his shoulders. “You like anyone who says you don’t buy too much yarn.”
“If I recall, she also made a mean hotpot.” Mildred snagged the whistling kettle and filled the teapot. “Did she say why she was in your patch?”
“Humph. Well, I dove in and smacked her one and tried to get my prey back, and she bloody bit me, and wouldn’t you know it I think the teen got away.” Mike scowled. “Which Ophelia had the nerve to blame me for, as if she wasn’t the one barging into someone else’s territory. And then she claims this didn’t count, because the teen was in the lake!”
“Not in the middle, though, surely?”
“Nowhere near the bloody middle!”
“Tsk. Nice try, luv.”
“That’s what I said. And reminded her that the whole reason we didn’t work out is she couldn’t respect boundaries. At which point she got really pissy.”
“Oh dear.” Mildred shot him a sidelong glance. “I mean, you do want to be careful how you bring up that kind of history, poppet…”
“Fuck that. She was well out of line.”
“Mm.” Mildred patted his back. “So, leftovers for dinner?”
“Again.” Mike sighed, the fury ebbing out of him. “I’m sorry, mum. I tried, I really did.”
“I know you did, poppet.” Mildred said firmly, wrapping her arms around as much of his shoulders as she could reach. “Sometimes things just don’t work out. We’ll manage. And I’m sure it’ll go better next time.”
“I hope so.” Mike mumbled.
“And we’ve still got a quarter of that… what was he?”
“A banker. I think.”
“That banker who got stranded. So we’re alright for a while.”
“Yeah.” Mike rubbed his hands and puffed on them. “Reminds me, need to finish taking that car apart.”
“That’d be nice. Reckon we can get much?”
“Sadly not, after he totalled it like that. But hey, the watch and all fenced real good. Oh!” Mike fumbled in his pocket and produced a smartphone. “Thought to grab this before I jumped in the water. And it turned on fine when I tried it on the way home, so apparently waterproof.”
“Oh, well remembered!” Mildred patted his head with a proud smile. “See? Even when luck was against you, you managed to scrounge something for your old mum. That looks brand new, between that and the scrap we ought to be fine for groceries. And eating pig for a few weeks isn’t so bad.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll get you some proper meat tomorrow.” Mike said earnestly. “Reckon there’ll be police all over the place, if that camper did make it back, so…”
“That’d be nice, dear. We could do a roast.” Mildred handed him the tea. “Now, drink up. Don’t want you catching cold.”
“Yes, mum.” Mike intoned, rolling his eyes with a faint, fond smile, and she tutted.

Prompt was “You’re a prolific serial killer, and you’ve identified your next target. Everything is in place for the perfect crime, that is, until another serial killer shows up the right you planned to kill your target. The worst part? The other killer is one of your exes…”