Graduation

By: C. Charles Knight

 

    It was the common curiosity of a child. Seth liked to know how things worked. He’d pulled apart most of his toys at some point. Some were interesting, some filled with nothing but air. Interests should evolve, graduate. And his did.

    Bugs were next. Not small ones, you understand. No. Those were too hard to work with. But a good-sized grasshopper or cicada was enough if you had an X-Acto knife. (He did.) He liked the crunch. The crispy exoskeleton and the green gush. There wasn’t much to see in them either, though, so graduation didn’t take long.

    Seth had some friends, but not too many. Most didn’t seem to get him, and that was alright. He preferred to be alone. In fact, the few friends he had collected he hadn’t been looking for when they showed up. They just kind of kept hanging around. Well, until Seth would act “weird,” and then they’d go play somewhere else. Seth guessed they didn’t like dead things as much as he did, and that was alright, too. It gave him more time to focus.

    Finding the dead bird was one of the best days of his life. It was small, with blue feathers. It wasn’t all stiff and weird like some dead things are. This one must not have been deceased for very long. It was still soft, but not warm anymore. Seth carefully put it in his pocket. Mom and dad wouldn’t want him to have it. He’d take it to his special spot. A little place in the woods behind his house. The best place for experiments.

    The special spot was surrounded by a cluster of trees so that no one could see. He got the little cigar box his dad had given him. It was snug in a little hole beneath a tree. That’s where he kept his instruments. His tools. He gently removed the bird from his pocket and placed it on a piece of cardboard. Seth examined his subject, turning it from one side to the other with the care of a museum curator. He had to decide where to start. The chest it is, he thought. His small hands were strikingly deft as the first cut was made. It was harder to pull apart than he had guessed, but with cautious pressure, the tiny ribs separated and offered the secrets kept within. He’d cut too far down, he could see that. But the parts were fascinating. There wasn’t much blood spilling, most of it was thick now. Seth had looked at some anatomy pages online, so he knew what some things were, even though their sizes and shapes weren’t exact. He should have looked up birds. He got frustrated and tired when the skull wouldn’t cooperate. He wanted to see the brain, but his tools just weren’t right to do it. He wasn’t about to sully the experiment by lowering himself to brute force.

    It was hard to graduate. There needed to be more animals, but aside from the occasional roadkill, there weren’t many options. He went for the roadkill that was more-or-less intact. Some were viable for experiments. Then, he learned about certain things you could feed animals that would keep their bodies intact but end their lives. Seth began to gather more subjects. Soon, the bury pit outside his special spot was becoming crowded, and he was running out of subjects, again.

    As he sat on the playground, Seth watched carefully. Considering. It was time for graduation.

**

C. Charles Knight is a horror fiction writer and member of the Horror Writers Association and Author’s Guild. He developed a passion for writing fiction in childhood and wrote for years as a creative release; however, it wasn’t until 2019 that he started writing longer fiction and now has a myriad of stories of various lengths, from short stories to novels. He is now ready to begin the process of submitting completed stories for publication. In the meantime, he likes to read both traditional and indie authors of horror (and some other genres) and keep up his dexterity by playing David Gilmour guitar solos. You can follow him on Instagram @ccharlesknight and check out his website at www.theknightwriter.com