Sticky Coffin Secrets

Crouched in the back corner of the yard, nestled in between lawn mowers and stacks of dry wood, she pinched ants off of the hot cement, dropping their wriggling bodies into spider’s nests. The disgusting little creatures terrified her, eliciting a repulsive feminine shriek whenever startled, generally resulting in swift and satiated crushing.

Watching the helpless ant writhe and twist, attempting to escape the sticky coffin, feeling that intense sense of power that came with the most exhilarating adrenaline rush was fantastic. This was her secret. Her badness. Knowing it was wrong, knowing she would be punished if found out, made it that much more thrilling.

Decades later, visiting her family’s home for a summer barbecue, that corner of the yard makes her heart race; that familiar thud deep inside her chest, the feeling of anxious intoxication. She never got past killing ants, no later signs of disturbance present.

It was just the one. Just that one time…


22 thoughts on “Sticky Coffin Secrets

  1. ok, I’m going to say it even if no one else will … don’t we all feel that we have that one secret? – our badness … and its accompanying feeling of anxious intoxication! I love the words you used to describe it 🙂

    1. We all do. We just aren’t supposed to talk about it 😉

      Thanks so much for your kind words! Feedback like this motivates me to further push out of my happy nature poetry bubble and post more prose and short fiction like this 🙂

    1. Haha! The majority of it is pure fiction! I absolutely love taking an experience or observation and tweaking and morphing it into something else entirely. How our imaginations can fly! 🙂

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