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Writer's pictureA. R. Markov

Over the Ocean



Over the Ocean

“Hi”, she said to the assembled crowd of blank-eyed addicts, each drooping over their chairs, “I’m Georgina, and I’ve been sober for, oh, I’d say four hours now.” Hi Georgina, they all mumbled back. “And let me tell you,” she rasped in the slight southern accent that she’d been trying to get rid of for years, “This shit’s harder than it looks.” A few members of the group almost seemed to nod in agreement as they slumped even further down in the hard plastic seats, each strewn hap-hazardly in a circle. “You see,” she continued, “it all started with my daddy back when I was a kid. A real piece of work he was, but if there’s one thing he taught me, it’s that in this life, you’re either a fish or a shark, and which would you rather be, boy? Of course, he would only impart this sound advice when he wasn’t flat off his ass drunk, which wasn’t often. “For a while I tried to be a shark, tried to do everything as my pop told me,” one of the AA members fell off his chair, letting out one last, feeble groan as he slowly bled out. “But eventually I realized that that just wasn’t who I was. So I fell off the wagon a little. Mary J, Crack, ecstasy, you name it, I’ve done it. But someone, some meddling bastard,” the man tied up in the corner with her mouth gagged squirmed and started to scream. Of course, no one could actually hear him, “tried to get me to go clean. And you know what? I’m actually happy. I’m motherfuckin’ happy, because that right there opened my eyes. I realize now that I am a shark, and a damned good one. You see, ever since I’ve gone straight, I’ve been getting these... urges...” She licked the blood off of her hands, and laughed, approaching the man in the corner. In her mind, the AA members turned to watch her, but of course they didn’t really, because they were dead. Their blood soaked into the drab, grey carpet, which squelched as he stepped on it. It felt funny on her bare toes. “So thank you, Trevor,” she grinned, and the man tried to scream again, and wiggle away from her. But he was backed against a wall, and she had a very dull knife to his throat. “You have truly opened my eyes. You’re a very special boy. So special, in fact, that I can’t let anyone else have you. Ever. And then she began to sing as she readied the chainsaw. “My body lies over the ocean,” the man’s screams were lost in the whirr. “My body lies over the sea... My body lies over the ocean.” The man stopped screaming. “Oh bring back my body to me.” She laughed as his head rolled across the floor.

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