Suspense Short Story – The guest
Photo credit: chelle from morguefile.com
When Nonna signed the lease agreement she was unaware of the guest below the floorboards. The little unit had been a produce market but sat empty. Inside, there was moldy air and odd scraps of rotting vegetables from its previous life, sources of food nonetheless. It stood in the poorest postal code of the city, though stamps cost the same as everywhere else. The unit was modest but provided shelter for the guest’s gaunt form and swollen belly.
Recently, a few courageous businesses had sprouted in this corner of the neighborhood and the little market was quickly transformed into a colorful Italian deli. Gravid Provoloni, tightly bound with twine, swung at the top of the window over baskets of freshly baked breads and crusty buns. The chilled counter was now spotless and luxuriously packed with a bounty of salami, mortadelle, olives and European cheeses, the air filled with clean goodness. Nonna stood behind the counter sliding her ten inch Santoku against the steel as she listened.
The food for the guest’s meals had gotten much better and her belly inflated even more. There was now more than just skin and sinew on her delicate bones and she developed a glow as she felt things moving inside. Above the floor boards, Nonna could sense things moving too but her thoughts had nothing to do with new life.
Nonna took a moment and went out on her little back porch and pulled out one of the cigarettes from the cache under a coffee tin. As she had a few drags she saw her guest darting by and Nonna was moved by what she saw. Quickly back inside, she grabbed a tempting morsel and tucked it into her apron.
Nonna gripped the handrail firmly in her left hand and crept down the rotting stairs making sure to step only on the planks that had been repaired and not breaking the silence. She unbolted the low door and turned on the switch. The light flickered as she stooped into the crawl space. Her hip sent pangs of pain from when she had torn ligaments giving birth forty-two years before. She heard a rustle in the far corner and smelled the dust that was stirred.
Upstairs, Nonna heard the door chime then voices and the footsteps of children. She couldn’t stop now. The task needed to be done and she might not get another chance.
There was another rustle in the corner. She moved towards it until the guest cowered below her, ready to burst. She pulled out the blade. It happened very fast and there was only a little blood. First there was one guest then seven more. Seven fat little rats snuggled against their mother’s warm tummy. The mother looked up but did not move. Nonna reached into her pocket then raised the blade and shaved off a slice of the crappy Cheshire and gave it to her guest. After all, Cheshire was quite out of place in her deli.
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