The Cleansing of the Soles: Mysterious Photograph #2

 Everybody has dreams. 

One of mine was to see my name as an author in a pulp fiction magazine.  I was reading Worlds of If and Fantastic Stories from when I was as young as 8, buying them for 35 cents.  I fantasized about what it would be like to have a story published in them one day.

Sixty-one years later, I still dream about it.  What feeble efforts I made over the years were ignored and easily swatted away,

But I'm not giving up.  I have found a contest in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, a short (flash fiction) story based on a "mysterious photograph."

My first submission, One Small Step, did not win.  It did not receive honorable mention.

Nevertheless, I persist.

I submitted the story below. my second attempt.

I am pleased to report that it was runner-up, and my name will be in the January/February issue of Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine! 

So, part of my dream has been accomplished!  The story itself won't be, but my name will be in a pulp magazine, and for writing!

This reinvigorates me to keep trying, that maybe there is some merit to my writing!

And now, for the winning runner-up!

The Cleansing of the Soles

by T. M. Strait 

It had to be you. Of all the people to walk into my basement, it had to be Marvin. Restraining order be damned – there you were.

“Get out!’ I shouted. “You can’t be here!”

“Yes, I can! I don’t care what the lawyers say! This is my house, and I’m taking it back!” Marvin moved menacingly toward me, a bat in his hands.

Enough of his belittling and abuse! I’d had my fill. Rather than cower, I surprised him by rushing toward him, my arms in front of me. I took advantage of his confusion, and I knocked him down. He fell heavily, his head crunching on the concrete basement step.

He didn’t move. “Marvin? Are you okay?”  I kicked him, but he didn’t respond. I checked for breath. There was none. A pool of blood under his head seeped out to redden the gray of the step.

Marvin would never threaten me again. It wasn’t easy, but I stuffed his body in the freezer. I mopped up the blood. I thought I was done when I noticed the blood on the bottom of my sneaker.

In a panic, I took off my shoes, and threw them to the washer.

I needed to be done with this.  I wanted the last remnant of Marvin off of me.

I wanted to wash that man right out of my sole.