Welcome to the serialized version of my debut novella, Cherry Kills. If you’re just joining us, head over to the Navigation Page, or start directly from Episode One. If you’d prefer to read this in another format, head on over to Tiny Worlds Publishing and pick up the paperback or ebook!
CK was edited by S.E. Reid
Episodes:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | ..
Seven Years Earlier
“Dad?” said Cherry.
“Yeah, baby.”
“This might be the best casserole you’ve ever made.” Cherry leaned back on the sofa, the bowl of food on her lap.
They were watching one of her favorite flicks, Cleopatra, starring Elizabeth Taylor. Her dad would groan whenever she’d put it on, but after a few minutes he would be caught up in the story and forget he was sick of it.
“Was it like this when you lived in Egypt?”
“Yes. Everyone wore gold and—hey, I had a big bathtub with ladies standing around in my place just like that!”
“You’re such a nerd, Dad.”
“Okay, so maybe it wasn’t exactly like that. But man, the people are beautiful. I’d love to go back and visit.”
Her dad looked off into the distance and smiled, then shook his head. “Maybe some day.”
Cherry paused, then said, “Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s that book in your closet?” Cherry regretted saying it as soon as it came out.
“What are you talking about? You been going through my stuff after I told you not to?” Her dad set his bowl of food on the coffee table, the fork clanging against the side of the bowl. “It’s none of your business, is what it is.”
“Sorry. I just—”
“What else did you see?”
“Dad, I—”
Cherry’s dad got up, looked out the blinds, then sat back down. “It’s an antique. Probably worth a lot of money, so let’s just keep it down, okay?”
“Okay...”
“It might be worth enough to get us out of this cramped place. Maybe we’ll move to the suburbs. Would you like that?”
“Sure, Dad. Sounds nice. But…where did you get it?”
“Someone gave it to me,” said her dad, then looked down at his bowl. “What should we have for dessert?”
Oasis or Blur?
Cherry handed the application to the clerk behind the counter at the record shop. He took it without looking up and set it in a stack with a dozen other applications.
“Lot of people want this job, eh?” Cherry leaned against the counter, nearly knocking down a CD display.
“Yeah.”
“When will you start interviewing?”
“Don’t know.”
Cherry smiled as politely as she could manage. “Oasis or Blur?”
“What?”
“What team are you on? Oasis or Blur?”
The clerk looked up. “Blur, obviously.”
“Nice try,” said Cherry walking over to a crate, where she began flipping through the records. “The correct answer is Pulp.”
Uncle leaned against a shelf with a look of disgust on his face. “Wouldn’t be my first choice, but hey, a job is a job, and money is money.”
“Where would you work?” asked Cherry without looking up. “I mean, if you weren’t in my head.”
“Don’t know. Open up a club—but not like that dive from last night. No, somethin’ classy. Get an act like Louis Prima and Keely Smith. Serve Champagne in cocktail glasses…real classy.” Uncle smiled and stared out the window.
“I’m sure that would be a hit with the kids,” Cherry said. “So, that dude Owen is a weirdo, right?” She smiled awkwardly as a girl walked by, then continued, “I’m so confused about what he was doing at Mai’s place.”
“Don’t know,” said Uncle. “But I had a look at his computer while you were chattin’.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, he had your file up—your state assistance record.”
“And you’re just now telling me this?”
“You don’t leave a lot of oxygen for the room, Cher.”
Elwood scratched his ear.
“Why should I even believe you?” she said. “There’s no way you could see something I can’t. You are me. Anyway, we’ll talk more about this at home. We should move on to the next failure.”
Cherry thanked the clerk and exited the record store.
Out front, sitting on the hood of his black Chevy sedan and playing with his nose ring, was Owen. “Cherry, Cherry, quite contrary.”
Daisy hid behind Cherry’s legs.
“What the fuck—are you following me? If you think I’m a little lamb lost in the woods, you better think—”
“I’m just here to deliver a gift—for being a humanitarian and fetching Mai’s bag. It should be the norm, right? Being a good neighbor and all that. But it’s not.” Owen slid off the hood of the car, walked around to the passenger side window, and pulled out a ten-inch-square painting canvas. He held it out to Cherry.
Uncle hovered between them, a rage-filled, hairless gorilla wearing a sleeveless white t-shirt. He would have been an intimidating sight if he wasn’t a figment of Cherry’s imagination.
Cherry thought about going back into the record shop or booking it down the street. There was something off about this guy Owen. She was sure she didn’t tell him where she was headed. Reluctantly, she reached through Uncle, took the canvas from Owen’s hands, and looked down at the painting: it was a detailed portrait of herself sitting on a golden throne, the colors swirling and vibrant as if they might spill right off the painting. Behind her were three silhouettes stretched against a cement wall: a rabbit-man, a square lug, and a child with pigtails.
Cherry gasped and backed away from Owen. It wasn’t possible. How could he know about her Alternates?
Owen grinned and got into his car. “See ya around, Cherry.”
Queen of Broken Brains
Uncle was adamant that they keep to the apartment for a few days. Cherry acted annoyed, but she was creeped out by Owen showing up at the record shop and the portrait he’d given to her, so maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to stick close to home for a little while.
She looked at the portrait; it didn’t make sense. The only person who knew about her Alternates was her doctor. And why was she sitting on a throne in this painting? She sure as hell didn’t feel powerful.
Her Majesty, Cherry Kills—the queen of broken brains, she thought.
A steady downpour of icy rain made the seclusion less oppressive; she wouldn’t go out in this if she could. Cherry curled up on the living room couch drinking a Snapple and examining the portrait, occasionally looking up to see Daisy and Elwood playing Rock, Paper, Scissors.
Uncle stood as still as a statue, watching the street below. “You never thanked us for saving your life.”
“Okay, sure—thank you,” said Cherry. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, why are you still here? You don’t want to be here, and I’d like to live my life. So maybe it’s time you—” Cherry motioned to the door. “You know?”
Daisy came over and sat next to Cherry. “Why would we leave you? We love you.”
Cherry stood and walked over to the window. It was quiet out on the street with only the occasional car splashing by.
“Maybe I don’t love you,” she said. “Go haunt someone else.”
In that moment, Cherry hated the sound of her own voice.
Daisy lowered her head and picked at a tiny embroidered pink flower on her dress.
Uncle placed a hand on Daisy’s shoulder and scowled at Cherry. “She’s just havin’ a moment, Dayz. She thinks we’re not real, yet here we are, havin’ a fight.”
Cherry stuck her teeth out and wiggled her nose. “What do you think, giant rabbit-man? Are you real?”
Elwood shrugged.
“I can always rely on you for an honest reaction,” said Cherry.
“Explain why we’re in that painting, Cupcake,” said Uncle, looking at his square nails.
“My therapist must have told somebody about you, and now they’re trying to take advantage of me. It’s got to—”
Uncle laughed, walked over to the couch, and sat. “Take advantage of you? You got a stash of money hidden away I ain’t aware of?”
Cherry picked up a pillow, screamed into it, then calmly set the pillow next to her on the couch. “Unless you want to discuss Liz Taylor’s eyebrows, we’re done talking. I’m going to watch Cleopatra and try to finish this disgusting Snapple, and you’re going to sit there quietly. Understood?” She picked up the remote and turned on the television set.
Daisy picked up a pillow and handed it to Uncle. “Your turn.”
Cherry tried to focus on her movie, but her mind kept drifting back to Mai. If they were a couple and he was at the Gut Punch, why didn’t she mention him to Cherry? Either she was withholding this information or Owen had lied. The latter seemed likely.
She thought back to her first interaction with Mai over two months ago when she had approached Cherry’s table holding a novel. “I realized this morning I have two copies of this book,” she’d said, “and I saw you sitting here alone with nothing to distract you from this place’s decor. Having a good read might help with that.”
Cherry hadn’t told Mai she was surrounded by three big distractions at that very moment, she looked over the top of Mai’s novel and said, “What is it?”
Mai told her it was Diary of a Madman.
“I’ve got my own diary, thanks,” she’d said, but there was something familiar in Mai’s face that softened Cherry’s response, and she’d accepted the book, although she never actually opened it.
Cherry turned off the television, walked to the bookshelf, and pulled out the book Mai had given her. She considered reading it, thumbed through a few pages, but seeing a passage about talking dogs, felt it was a little too close to home. She was just about to place it back on the shelf, when something on the back page caught her eye. It was a sketch of a woman who looked a lot like Cherry’s mom. But that wasn’t possible. Still, she couldn’t take her eyes off of the sketch, and she couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling that this was no coincidence.
Rather read a physical copy of Cherry Kills? No problem. Head over to Tiny Worlds Publishing for a signed (or unsigned) paperback. If you’re looking for an immersive experience, pick up the deluxe package.
Sean Thomas McDonnell is a contest-winning Bay Area-based author specializing in horror and dark speculative fiction. His debut collection, Beneath the Valley Oak—a fierce blend of western grit and creeping dread—sold out within 48 hours. He is a founding creator of The Midnight Vault anthology and the author of the standout story Blink Twice If You Can Hear Me. His breakout punk-noir novella, Cherry Kills, is available worldwide through Tiny Worlds Publishing.
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A human wrote this story. A human edited this story. A human created the art for Cherry Kills. A human published Cherry Kills. A robot ate my kittens.
Pulp
I love this one