Groundhog

by Kenya Moss-Dyme

The phrase, “You can’t keep a good woman down” takes on new meaning in this short and not so sweet tale about a dinner time standoff between secret lovers.

Fucking liars.

With one, she shared a mother; with the other, she shared a bed. But they had betrayed her in the worst possible way – and they would pay, oh, yes, they would pay. 

Smile at me, go ahead and ask me about my day as you try to throw me off the scent. But I can smell the guilt and deceit coming out of your pores – or should I say – between your filthy legs!

My loving husband: come and kiss me on my cheek like you’re happy to see me. I’ve trembled a thousand times under your hands on my body but tonight you will tremble under mine.

My dear sister: pick up your eyes from the floor – my face is up here! That’s right, you ARE a fledgling actress, but tonight will be your final curtain call.

Alana paused at the mirror in the foyer to give them time to adjust their clothing. She frowned and plucked two crisp dead leaves from her blonde-tipped locs, adding them to the pile on the small table beneath the mirror.

“What would you guys like for dinner?” She asked, kicking off her pumps.

Keyon’s eyes moved nervously between Alana’s stockinged feet and the deepening red stains in the carpet by the chair.

“Whatever you decide is fine, Constance mumbled without looking up from the pages of a magazine she’d selected from the sofa table.

“Chicken it is.” Alana breezed through the kitchen and into the garage where she peeled away a small pill case taped beneath the fuse box. Humming softly, she began preparing the meal. Never let them see you sweat! After fixing the plates, she turned her back to the living room and crushed a small white capsule into the potatoes on each of their plates.

She’d considered many ways to make them pay for their crime, from disabling the furnace to ensure a carbon monoxide leak, to triggering a house explosion, both of which would be perfect scenarios since she herself would be out of town. But ultimately, her profession provided her with the perfect weapon of destruction in the form of a convenient little pill. – cyanide. She’d dispose of the bodies and then make the “discovery” that the two had simply ran off together.  Never fuck with a chemist.

“Dinner’s ready,” she called out sweetly, taking her seat at the end of the dining table so she could watch them devour their last meal.

The treacherous pair shuffled over and took their usual seats at the table.

“I need your share of the rent today, sis,” Alana said, narrowing her eyes at Constance as she took a bite of her food. “Yesterday was the first.”

“I got it, don’t worry – you’ll get it,” Constance sighed and rolled her eyes.

Stay calm, it’ll be over soon. “By the way, I have to drive some drug samples to Ohio after dinner. I missed the courier so I’ll do it myself – will you two be okay here while I’m away?” Of course you will.

Keyon cleared his throat. “Well, I mean, I guess – we’ll manage, we always do.”

You always do IT, you mean!

 “I’ve got some lines to rehearse anyway,” replied Constance, shooting Keyon a side glance that was unmistakably full of secrets. Alana cringed and resisted the urge to leap across the table.

“I need hot sauce,” Keyon said around a mouthful of chicken.

The legs of his chair scraped loudly across the floor as Keyon pushed away from the table and passed behind Alana on his way to the kitchen. She opened her mouth to fuss about the scuff marks when Constance suddenly turned sideways and slammed her hand on the table.

“Do it! Do it!” Constance screamed, pounding the table with her fist.

Alana heard the swish of rough fabric and caught the quick flash of the belt as it dropped past her face and tightened against her neck. Fear and confusion took over as Constance taunted her and she struggled to understand what was taking place. Keyon pushed his knee into the back of her chair and pulled harder until he felt a soft pop; Alana’s body went limp.

Constance jumped out of her chair and leaned her weight on her elbows to stare at her sister’s lifeless body crumpled on the floor.

“That’s your rent, bitch!” she spat vehemently. She looked up at Keyon and forced a reassuring smile. “Don’t look so worried – we’re safe now. Let’s get rid of her and start practicing our alibis so you can report her missing.”

Together, they carried Alana to the backyard and tossed her into the hole dug earlier. Keyon emptied a carton of lime over her body to mask the scent of death and they both shoveled dirt back into the hole until she was covered.

Out of breath, they returned to the house and greedily devoured the dinner Alana had prepared before her demise. Murder sure had a way of revving up the appetite.

“One thing I’ll miss about her – she sure could cook!” Keyon mumbled over a hearty belch and dropped his fork loudly onto the empty plate just as his throat began to close.

“I can cook just as good as—.“ Constance stopped mid-sentence and clawed at her stomach as she fell out of her chair, spewing the bloody contents of her stomach across the carpet.

The lovers locked eyes as they lay convulsing on the floor until death thankfully ended their torture.

Alana stumbled barefoot around the side of the house and into the front door. Fucking liars, she thought as she stopped to look at herself in the mirror. She picked a dry leaf from her locs and laid it on the foyer table before entering the living room to greet her disloyal family.

“What would you guys like for dinner?” She asked, kicking off her heels at the door.

“Whatever you choose,” replied Constance, using the tip of her shoe to dab curiously at a red stain in the carpet.

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Learn more about Kenya in 100+ Black Women in Horror, a comprehensive guide to some of the most powerful voices on the scene. Click here for a free download of the current version, then come back in March for the newest version updated with dozens of new entries!