Fresh Flesh by Todd Russell
Authors: Todd Russell
Tags: Fiction, thriller, Suspense, Horror, supernatural, Novel, island, psychological thriller, ocean, Nightmare, Forbidden, evil, scary, shipwrecked, debut novel, ocean beach, banished, romance at sea
Ads: Link
surprises at every
turn! Yes, you will spend an endless vacation with a lifetime
supply of flesh-craving insects and delicious, unreachable
coconuts. And our Price Is Right special bonus is offering you all
the fish you can eat. Forever!"
More tears.
More.
When she finally stopped crying, night had
fallen and Dick had still not returned.
Alone. Frightened. She wondered if he ever
would come back.
She waited.
And waited.
PART 2
SECRETS
CHAPTER 9
The butterfly danced and landed on the plant
near Kyle Roberts and a smile crept across his lips. Beyond the
trees the morning ocean tide rolled in.
Behind him, Seth Everson repeated what he'd
seen but Kyle had zoned out. He focused on the butterfly.
The butterfly danced.
* * *
The year was 1958.
His earliest and fondest childhood memory
involved butterflies.
In middle school he would always try to get
seats close to the window so he could stare out and watch what
happened outside the window. Despite the distraction, his grades
never suffered. He was an exemplary student who rarely received
less than an A grades. In fact, the only negative marks received in
his life came in human form.
Not boys so much, although they would tease
him quietly behind his back. Those that did it to his face would
end up in fights. Kyle was a strong boy and a good natural
fighter.
He had a leader personality among boys and
would be first to raise his hand to lead any group in school and
extracurricular activities which made him semi-popular. But his
personality was abrasive and led other kids to follow him more out
of fear than respect.
Girls deemed him good looking but dark and
brooding. They didn't like the glassy look in his eyes or the way
he would stare through them. Kyle didn't understand or care that
much about girls. They smelled and looked nice but they would
deceive him with their external beauty. When he stared through
girls, he examined the ugliness inside.
This might have had something to do with his
feelings about his own mother a prison psychiatrist would say much
later in life, but all Kyle knew about the woman at the time was
abandonment. Women could cast off their young, it didn't seem
right. She and possibly his father had both left him. He wanted to
blame his mother but he didn't know her, so he blamed her entire
sex. His father he gave a bit of a pass because there was a
possibility his father didn't even know about him.
Butterflies.
But butterflies were beautiful all around.
They danced on the air and in Kyle's dreams. Butterflies had
definition and purpose. The more he learned about butterflies the
more they fascinated him.
Various foster homes he was in would force
him to go to church and listen to preachers. He studied religion
but found it difficult bearing his life to date having faith in
God. He wanted to believe in something, so he tried.
He believed in butterflies.
He would never forget the day he captured his
first butterfly. That changed everything. Imprisoned in the net,
fluttering, Kyle trembled.
"I didn't mean to," he told the butterfly and
in the process of trying to free it somehow he had injured the
beautiful creature.
What have I done? Why did I hurt you?
He watched the helpless butterfly. He looked
around and tried to stop others passing by at the park. "Mister,
can you please help? M'aam? Mister? Sir? M'aam? Please, please I
need help. Please!"
Some would stop and pat him on the head or
pass him quirky smiles but nobody helped him.
He cried his way back home, the butterfly
still stuck in the net. It died before he made it back. He showed
his foster mother, Angela, a big, black lady with a huge heart,
what he'd done.
"It's ok. You didn't mean to hurt, Kyle."
"I tried to get help but nobody. . ." Kyle
pointed at the butterfly in the net. He had wanted to touch and
appreciate the beauty in close range but what he touched had
died.
He cried while Angela held him, rocking him
back and forth. He vowed never again to hurt
turn! Yes, you will spend an endless vacation with a lifetime
supply of flesh-craving insects and delicious, unreachable
coconuts. And our Price Is Right special bonus is offering you all
the fish you can eat. Forever!"
More tears.
More.
When she finally stopped crying, night had
fallen and Dick had still not returned.
Alone. Frightened. She wondered if he ever
would come back.
She waited.
And waited.
PART 2
SECRETS
CHAPTER 9
The butterfly danced and landed on the plant
near Kyle Roberts and a smile crept across his lips. Beyond the
trees the morning ocean tide rolled in.
Behind him, Seth Everson repeated what he'd
seen but Kyle had zoned out. He focused on the butterfly.
The butterfly danced.
* * *
The year was 1958.
His earliest and fondest childhood memory
involved butterflies.
In middle school he would always try to get
seats close to the window so he could stare out and watch what
happened outside the window. Despite the distraction, his grades
never suffered. He was an exemplary student who rarely received
less than an A grades. In fact, the only negative marks received in
his life came in human form.
Not boys so much, although they would tease
him quietly behind his back. Those that did it to his face would
end up in fights. Kyle was a strong boy and a good natural
fighter.
He had a leader personality among boys and
would be first to raise his hand to lead any group in school and
extracurricular activities which made him semi-popular. But his
personality was abrasive and led other kids to follow him more out
of fear than respect.
Girls deemed him good looking but dark and
brooding. They didn't like the glassy look in his eyes or the way
he would stare through them. Kyle didn't understand or care that
much about girls. They smelled and looked nice but they would
deceive him with their external beauty. When he stared through
girls, he examined the ugliness inside.
This might have had something to do with his
feelings about his own mother a prison psychiatrist would say much
later in life, but all Kyle knew about the woman at the time was
abandonment. Women could cast off their young, it didn't seem
right. She and possibly his father had both left him. He wanted to
blame his mother but he didn't know her, so he blamed her entire
sex. His father he gave a bit of a pass because there was a
possibility his father didn't even know about him.
Butterflies.
But butterflies were beautiful all around.
They danced on the air and in Kyle's dreams. Butterflies had
definition and purpose. The more he learned about butterflies the
more they fascinated him.
Various foster homes he was in would force
him to go to church and listen to preachers. He studied religion
but found it difficult bearing his life to date having faith in
God. He wanted to believe in something, so he tried.
He believed in butterflies.
He would never forget the day he captured his
first butterfly. That changed everything. Imprisoned in the net,
fluttering, Kyle trembled.
"I didn't mean to," he told the butterfly and
in the process of trying to free it somehow he had injured the
beautiful creature.
What have I done? Why did I hurt you?
He watched the helpless butterfly. He looked
around and tried to stop others passing by at the park. "Mister,
can you please help? M'aam? Mister? Sir? M'aam? Please, please I
need help. Please!"
Some would stop and pat him on the head or
pass him quirky smiles but nobody helped him.
He cried his way back home, the butterfly
still stuck in the net. It died before he made it back. He showed
his foster mother, Angela, a big, black lady with a huge heart,
what he'd done.
"It's ok. You didn't mean to hurt, Kyle."
"I tried to get help but nobody. . ." Kyle
pointed at the butterfly in the net. He had wanted to touch and
appreciate the beauty in close range but what he touched had
died.
He cried while Angela held him, rocking him
back and forth. He vowed never again to hurt
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