The Last Time I Saw Scotty
Scotty lived next door to me when I was a kid. The last time I saw him, he said, "I think mom wants to get rid of me."
"Why d'you say that?" I asked.
"Dunno," he said, "Just a funny feeling I get."
He left his X-Men comic at my house that day. The next day, when I went to take it back to him, I saw Scotty's mom in the garden, pruning her rose bushes.
"I came to bring Scotty's X-Men back," I said.
"Who?" she said.
"Scotty. Your son, Mrs. Bloomfield. Scotty."
"Sorry, Tom," she said, "But I don't have a son named Scotty."
She snipped a rose bloom off one of the stems. The red petals fell to the ground and spread upon the grass like two drops of blood.
I walked back to my house, the comic book still in hand. But I knew I would never want to read it again.
#horrorprompt 293: Two Drops
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