Ben McClain was a boy who seemed to be the exact average for the age of fourteen. Not too tall or short. Same haircut as most everyone else. His clothes were sometimes brand name and other times just a plain blue shirt. Like the average fourteen-year-old he had friends that were likely to get him into trouble at some point. Their names were Timothy Garcia and Charley Smith. Timothy was the tallest of the croup with blond hair that he rarely bothered to cut. Charley was a couple inches shorter than Ben and he always had his hair trimmed into a short buzzcut.

As many kids these days do when forced to spend time outside, the three took what money they had, and they headed towards the nearest gas station to spend their money on snacks so unhealthy that it basically ruined the point of going outside. The path was sandy and they had to be careful not to slip.

“Do you guys ever think that we should be doing something else? Something more fun?” Charley asked.

“I guess,” Ben said.

“I think I know something we could do,” Timothy said.

Timothy turned left and led them down a path into the tall grass. it wasn’t the kind of tall grass where you feared getting bitten by something at every turn. It was only a foot high, so it was quite tall grass, just not the expected kind. They walked for a while and Charley and Been thought to themselves that Timothy had never once mentioned this path. They could see up ahead that they were heading for a small dirt clearing that had a few patches of grass here and there.

“You guys ever gotten a lucky rabbit foot?” Timothy asked.

“Once, when I was on vacation,” Ben said. “It wasn’t really lucky though.”

“Well that’s because there’s a way for the foot to be lucky that those stores won’t do. Rabbits are survivors man, they’ll keep going with only three legs if they have to. So, if you cut off one of the feet and the rabbit lives, then the foot is lucky until the rabbit dies. That’s why the ones in the gift shops aren’t lucky. They always get the feet from dead rabbits.”

“Are we gettin’ rabbit’s feet today?” Charley asked.

“Yeah, we may only be able to get one though. They are only common to a point.”

“I think you’re making all of this up,” Ben sad

“Then how come when we were in school, I was the only one in biology with an A,” Timothy said. “If the rabbit’s feet aren’t lucky, then I’m a Goddamn genius! How else do you explain me beatin’ out all the nerds for the A?”

This was a fair point. That year, the biology teacher was new and didn’t really understand how to make a proper study guide. This messed up all the kids who relied on the study guide. Besides Timothy, the highest grade was an 89%. Timothy had a 95%. Charley and Ben had known Timothy from grade school and he was far from genius level. In second grade, he had to go to a different math timed testing room because he was stuck on addition while the others were already on multiplication. In the third grade, he failed science and had to go to summer school, which was mostly due to the fact that he didn’t understand the digestive system. In the fifth grade, he had failed a states test, which isn’t a big deal because no one really cares about geography. The only problem was for Colorado, the state Timothy lived in, he put Saskatchewan which was pretty bad considering there was a word bank.

“Alright, I’ve got three pennies. Since we’ll probably only be able to get one rabbit’s foot, we have to decide who get’s it. We throw a penny each into the air, at the same time. Whoever’s penny hits the ground last gets to cut and keep the rabbit’s foot.”

“How’ll we know when to throw it?” Charley asked.

“I’ll say 3-2-1-go. You throw on go,” Timothy said, handing out the pennies. “Everyone ready?” Charley and Ben nodded. The three crouched low to the ground and held their hands out, ready to jump and hurl the pennies into the air.

“3…2…1…GO!”

The three jumped at about the same time; Ben had been nervous, so there was a slight delay in his that nobody noticed. The pennies were hard to see in the air without looking into direct sunlight. Charley’s hit first, then Timothy’s, and Ben’s was last. Timothy put his index finger over his lips to make sure everyone stayed quiet. Timothy bent down slowly and picked up a nice, round rock from the grass. There was a rabbit up ahead in the clearing, eating grass. The two watched Timothy in amazement. Timothy held his breath and threw the rock with his elbow to his side; the was one would skip a rock. The rock went out to the right slightly, seeming as if it would pass the rabbit. It then curved in the rabbit’s direction, but a little too high. It seemed like it was going to go over the rabbit’s head, but Charley accidentally stepped on a branch and the rabbit lifted its head from its meal. It was a huge mistake for the rabbit as the rock hit the rabbit in the head, and the rabbit fell on its left side.

“Come on,” Timothy said.

The three ran to check on the rabbit and found it with its eyes closed, but still breathing.

“This is how we want it. I’ll hold it down while ben cuts off the foot.”

“Which foot?” Ben asked.

“Depends on what you want. Are you left or right handed?”

“Right.”

“You’ll want the front right paw for taking tests, skill with writing and general dexterity. You’ll want the back-right paw for athleticism and unnatural luck with the ladies.”

“Oddly specific. I guess I’ll go for the back right.”

“Yeah you will,” Timothy said jokingly.

He handed Ben the knife and put his foot down on the rabbit’s body, applying enough pressure to hold it down without crushing it. The rabbit opened its eyes and remained silent, breathing heavily. It did not know what horrors were about to happen. Ben flipped open the serrated pocket knife. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest. He felt the scared-excited adrenaline feeling. Ben grabbed the foot and it slipped out of his hand, the rabbit kicking him away. He grabbed again with more force and began cutting. The rabbit screamed its high-pitched scream that went in and out. Blood spat out of the cut messily. Soon Ben could see bone in the cut, but he was having a difficult time cutting through it with the pocket knife. Ben cut the other side, his clothes were getting messy with rabbit’s blood, and the rabbit screamed on. He was getting careless due to fear. The foot was now only attached by a joint and it moved around lifelessly as the rabbit tried to kick him away.

“Jesus! Ben, break the foot off!” Timothy yelled over the screams.

“Can’t you?” Ben asked in a panic.

“No, then the luck will go to me!”

Ben snapped the bone after a small deal of struggle. Charley had been watching intently but plugging his ears. The rabbit wouldn’t shut up.

“Now what?”

“We let the rabbit go, so that it will try to stop the bleeding on its own.”

Timothy lifted his foot and the rabbit stopped screaming. It hobbled a few feet away, then turned to look at the three. Its nose twitched violently. The rabbit saw Ben covered in blood with the foot in his hand and rushed over to him. It lunged awkwardly and but sown on Ben’s leg with vice-like grip. Ben screamed and reached for the rabbit. It wouldn’t come off and Ben didn’t want to use the knife, fearing that the rabbit would bite down harder. He squeezed its body tightly, trying to make it let go. The rabbit matched his pressure. Ben kept squeezing until the rabbit let go; an audible gross pop came from its body. It lay on the ground trying to take in breath. It gasped with open mouth on every breath. There was a clear imprint of Ben’s hand on it’s rib cage. Ben looked at the bite in his leg and figured the rabbit deserved to be in pain. Then, the rabbit drew in its last noisy breath.

“You killed it!” Timothy exclaimed. “Now we have to bury it with its foot before it haunts you with bad luck! It’s not supposed to die at your hands.”

“No, that’s stupid. I’m not burying it. This has gone way too far. You’re just making shit up as you go along!”

“I swear it’s real!”

“Then you bury it.”

“No, it has to be buried by you.”

“Ain’t that convenient! Go fuck yourself Timothy! I got bit by the Goddamn rabbit, I probably need a shot, and I got blood all over my clothes! How the hell do I explain this!” Ben said.

“Why’d you cut off the foot if you don’t believe in any of this?”

“Because I thought there was no harm in trying it. I didn’t think it would work!”

“Guys, stop,” Charley begged. “It’s bad enough that Ben has to go home and explain this to his mom without you two fighting. If there was such a risk Timothy, why didn’t you tell Ben beforehand?”

“Because, whenever it went south for me I just buried it. I thought Ben would do the same!”

“I’m not burying it. Stupid thing bit me and it can rot up here. I don’t care,” Ben said.

“Come on, the dirt’s soft enough to dig with your hands.”

“I don’t care about the bunny,” Ben said, and then kicked the rabbit’s body far away. “Here have the foot!” Ben threw the foot at Timothy and he dodged it as if it were deadly. “Wow you really believe in this crap!”

“I wouldn’t have brought you out here if I didn’t.”

The three walked back in the direction of their neighborhood. No one said anything except for Charley’s weak attempts to patch things up. Ben barely heard him. An overpowering series of thoughts ran through his mind.

I’ve got the curse of the rabbit’s foot,

“Come on guys don’t let this come between us.”

take a step, skin turns to soot.

“It’s just a rabbit.”

Tried to be lucky, but the rabbit died,

“A stupid rabbit.”

now its pain to me supplied.

“Not to discredit you, Timothy.”

Take the foot, of a friend,

“I think maybe the foot could’ve been lucky.”

so my life, does not end.

“It’s a real shame it bit you though.”

Take the life, of a friend,

“But you did hurt it.”

so his soul, in hell does end.

“I’d probably bite you too.”

I’ve got the curse of the rabbit’s foot,

take a step, skin turns to soot.

“If I were the rabbit that is.”

Tried to be lucky, but the rabbit died,

now its pain to me supplied.

“Me biting you would just be weird.”

Take the skin, of a friend,

so my pain, will finally end.

“You taking my foot would also be weird.”

Take the heart, of a friend,

Eat it up, that’s the end.

The rhyme and Charley both repeated (Charley didn’t repeat but it seemed like it) until they reached the cul-de-sac where they all lived. Ben and Timothy gave each other hateful looks before walking inside their respective houses. Charley felt bad, but there was nothing he could do about it. He walked into his house and prayed that Ben didn’t get into too much trouble. Ben prayed the same thing subconsciously, hardly being able to think with the rhyme in his head.

“Oh my God,” Ben’s mother said, “What happened to you?”

“You told me to go outside,” Ben said with a small chuckle. It was a chuckle of fear.

“Don’t be smart with me Benjamin Alex McClain. What’s this blood from?” Ben’s mother asked in a concerned tone.

“No way out but the truth, “Ben muttered. “Charley, Timothy, and me –”

“I.”

“I haven’t even finished my sentence, jeez. Charley, Timothy, and I were trying to get a lucky rabbit’s foot. Timothy had this stupid idea that the rabbit had to be alive for the foot to be lucky. When he let it go, it bit me here,” Ben pointed, “and it wouldn’t let go, so I squeezed it until it let go, but is didn’t let go till it died.

“That’s – that’s awful. Jesus, that’s – not important right now. You’re going to need shots. Go upstairs, change, and I’ll call the doctor. Don’t put your clothes in the hamper. What am I saying? You never do.”

Ben did as he was told, changing everything but shoes, underwear, and socks. Ben put on a shirt and the long athletic shorts he wore in the summer to avoid the heat and his thighs sticking to the leather of his mom’s car seats.

***

            Ben walked toward the entrance to the hospital with his mother tugging his wrist anxiously. The hospital entrance always reminded his mother of a hotel entrance, but she was too busy worrying about her child to notice. That’s why she tugged his wrist now. Ben could actually walk faster than she could but pulling his wrist forward even if it did nothing was reassuring. The rhyme was still thundering in Ben’s mind, so he didn’t notice the tugging all that much. his right leg, more specifically his right foot had begun to ache. Ben thought the pain may have been caused by the rabbit bite, but it was his foot that ached, not his leg.

            They entered the children’s waiting room and Ben’s mom talked to the receptionist while Ben sat in one of the chairs. Ben hated coming to the doctor’s office because of this waiting room. It wasn’t that he felt like he was an “adult” as some teens felt, but instead it was the fact that he hated little kids. He seldom let anyone know that he didn’t’ like kids, because many adults (specifically parents) would try to talk him out of it. kids were noisy, often unintelligible, and unnecessarily extroverted. They asked you questions, which was fine enough, except for when they didn’t understand your answer; even if the question is “what are you eating?” and the answer is a burger. They got really touchy-feely, which Ben wasn’t a big fan of with regular people. Ben also found it ironic how often new parents complained, yet also recommended parenthood to others their age. To Ben, parenthood seemed like an unnecessary damper on the fun of life if you don’t like kids in the first place.

            A child came up to Ben and on the inside, he panicked, but outside he seemed perfectly fine. Ben looked to a stack of magazines and picked out the most boring one. He might’ve grabbed his phone, but in this day and age, even toddlers knew how to use phones and Ben didn’t want to worry about the kid asking if he had games on his phone.

            “What’re – w – w – what’re – you – what’re – you – y – y – you – w – w – weading?” The kid asked.

            What’re you reading, Ben thought, almost amazed at the kid’s effort to say three words. The kid looked to be maybe… four? Ben had to decide whether to ignore the kid or answer the kid. Sometimes he wanted to tear small holes in the fabric of children’s metaphorical shelter quilt that their parents surrounded them with. That would teach the parents to leave their kids with a teen. Just one f-bomb and the parents have to explain to a kid who barely knows the alphabet why that’s a bad word. It was the stuff of movies though and Ben could never bring himself to break this moral boundary.

            “It’s and article on…” Ben glanced at the magazine. It was an article titled How to Please Your Man So Well That a Breakup Would Psychologically Damage Him. This was an article title which brought up so many questions for Ben. One of which that really needed answers. Why? “…bubbles and how to blow the biggest and most durable.”

            “W – w – what – dura – dura – dura –”

            “Durable means really, really strong,” Ben said, slightly afraid of what he’d gotten himself into. The poem had stopped thundering in his mind as if it had known how much Ben hated this experience.

            “Weally, weally strong?”

            “Really, really strong,” Ben confirmed, unsure of what to say.

            “W – will – will you – y – will you – w – w – wead – w – wead – it-t – t – to – me?”

            Well shit. Ben thought. God has decided today is the day to test how long I can go before slipping cuss words in front of a kid. It’s official, guys. God hates me or at the very least is punishing me tenfold for the rabbit’s foot. Luckily, Ben’s mom came back from the receptionist’s desk. They’d had a conversation before about how much Ben didn’t like kids. She could also tell there had to be some reason Ben was reading Women’s Life Magazine. Ben hadn’t red the cover; he’d only seen the photo because another magazine had been blocking the title.

            “Who’s this?” Ben’s mom asked in that fake over-interested voice that most women used when speaking to young children.

            “I – I’m – I – a – am – b – b – batman!” This kid half-yelled.

“Oh wow! Batman! What are you doing here?”

“M – mommy – s – s – says – th – that – soopa heewos need ta g – get ch – checkups.”

“Where is your mommy?”

The kid pointed and said, “O-over there.”

            “Well batman, I think your mommy needs saving.”

            “Sh – she does? She does!” the kid exclaimed and ran toward his mom.

            “How did you do that?” Ben asked.

            “Simple redirection. Young kids don’t really think about much. Also, by the way, a parent will never take their kids away from a teenager unless its time to leave. Teens don’t know much about parenting and most just play with the little kids as much as the kid wants. The kid gets so much attention that they never want to leave. The trick is to redirect them or ignore them. Redirecting can be hard, but if it doesn’t work you just ignore them.”
            “So at that family reunion when Aunt Anne hung with you guys and I was stuck with Stevie…”

            “Yep, didn’t you notice the sincerity when Aunt Anne thanked you?”

            “And adults always tell me to change my mind about kids. Hypocrites.”

            “Oh parenthood isn’t as bad as you make it out to be.”

            “Ben McClain?” The receptionist called out. the poem was beginning to take its place again in Ben’s mind. The two stood up promptly and started to follow a nurse. Ben made it as far as the giraffe on the wall before passing out. The poem still rang in his mind.

***

            “Wake up! Come on, I know you can hear me over the chant.”

            Ben woke up. He was on a metal table that felt like a cushioned examination table in a doctor’s office. He was strapped to the metal table by belts. The owner of the voice came into view. His hands were white and soft. He was naked as well with imprints on his torso. He was missing right foot. His eyes bulged out of their sockets. All of this would have been weirder if the owner of the voice wasn’t a giant anthropomorphic rabbit. The imprints were where Ben crushed the rabbit for biting him.

            “Why’d ya do it Ben? Didn’t ya mother ever tell ya that torturing animals is somethin’ psychopaths do? It’s damn messed up that’s what it is.”

            Ben didn’t know how to respond. He felt paralyzed with fear. This was no Bugs Bunny; no this was a severely messed up rabbit. Whenever it took a breath, it’s ribcage popped quietly, but clearly. Blood seeped from the stub of its missing foot without ceasing. Its jaw clicked disturbingly when it opened its mouth to speak. The rabbit grabbed Ben with it’s index finger and thumb squeezing his cheeks.

            “What’ve you ta say for yourself?”

            Ben kept silent.

“Let me guess. Just a guess couldn’t hurt ay? You’re another teenage boy who didn’t know what he was doing and isn’t responsible for his actions. Jesus, did ya really have to punt me? Ya couldn’t just bury me?”

“I –”

“Shut it Ben. Now, ‘ave ya noticed your right foot hurting?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, every step you take, that foot begins to turn to ash. It’s gonna get worse, oh ya betta believe it. your leg’s gonna keep turnin’ to ash as the stub rides up on ya. Gonna be more painful than getting you five rabbits shots all at once instead of spread over the course of a fortnight. That’s two weeks, in case ya stupid. Eventually, it’ll get so bad that ya just drop dead. ya don’t gotta die though. ya know the chant ya been hearing over and over? Course ya do. Those are instructions, it rhymes so ya can remember it. now, Timothy keeps takin’ rabbit’s feet and we the rabbit community like out feet. We use ‘em to hop and stuff. So apply the poem to Timothy and the damage on your leg gets reversed. I gotta make sure ya know it so say it once through in a sing-songy tone. It’ll entertain me.

Ben complied, “I’ve got the curse of the rabbit’s foot…”

***

Ben lay on the examination table still asleep. “…take a step, skin turns to soot. Tried to be lucky, but the rabbit died, now its pain to me supplied. Take the foot, of a friend, so my life, does not end. Take the life, of a friend, so his soul, in hell does end…” Ben’s mother was about to wake him, but the doctor wanted to hear the rest. Sure, it was creepy, but he was curious. “…I’ve got the curse of the rabbit’s foot, take a step, skin turns to soot. Tried to be lucky, but the rabbit died, now its pain to me supplied. Take the skin, of a friend, so my pain, will finally end. Take the heart, of a friend, Eat it up, that’s the end.”

Ben’s eyes shot open and stared at the doctor. He didn’t say anything, but his fear was clear. Ben felt paralyzed again, he tried to move his arms, but they refused. His body trembled and the doctor looked at Ben with horror in his countenance.

“What was that?” Ben’s mother yelled hysterically.

Ben sat up and suddenly without explanation the room became normal again. No one mentioned that Ben had fainted. Ben did not speak of the dream, nor did he speak of the chant. It was like it had never happened. Perhaps it was all just some daydream that Ben’s mind had cooked up. That would be nice. That would be convenient, in fact. That’s not how it was though. security cam footage showed Ben faint and be carried into the doctor’s office. Ben’s mother and the doctor had heard the chant. They wouldn’t remember it word for word, but they had heard it. the three moved on after that to discussing rabies shots.

***

            Ben’s foot felt like it had been burning now. It took all his strength to mask the pain from his mother. Upon arrival at the house, Ben nearly sprang from the car. He rushed inside and ran as best he could to the bathroom. Take a step, skin turns to soot, Ben thought. it was difficult to run with the pain it caused. He took off his right shoe and noticed that his foot looked normal within the sock. Ben was worried, so he put the leg over the bathtub’s edge. He slowly unrolled his calf socks. When he reached the ankle, he stopped. Am I sure I want to see the damage? he shook the thought away and grabbed the toe end of the sock. With a sudden motion, he yanked the sock off and black ash fell into the tub. Ben clenched his nose, for the ash smelled like a foot that hadn’t been outside of shoe and sock in three years. His foot looked flat and black on the bottom and the toes were flat-bottomed as well. Ben placed the foot down on the tub’s bottom and it seemed to float a little. It was like the missing piece of his foot was still there but it was invisible. That’s right kid. Only you can see the damage. and before ya question the reality of the situation, remember, once the damage gets to a certain height ya die. It’ll damage ya intestines, kidneys, and all the way up to ya lung. Once ya lung punctures like mind, ya die. Ben washed out the bathtub, put on his sock and shoe, then exited the bathroom.

***

            Ben considered killing Timothy for the next week. He stayed in his room for a large chunk of the time, only leaving to eat or got to the bathroom. Isolation is a breeding ground for thoughts. He could’ve hung with Charley or Timothy, and while they did contact him, he would have to decide before he could see either of them. The thoughts always went in the same circle. I cut the foot off. Timothy has cut tons of rabbit’s feet off. I should’ve buried the rabbit. I’m in pain, if I kill him the quickly, then he won’t suffer as much as me. But I cut the foot off…

            Ben’s right leg still hurt even though it wasn’t actively wearing away into ash. The pain felt worse as the week went on. I know the real reason ya won’t do it. ya worry about getting caught. Well, once he’s dead, all the bad luck that comes from the curse is transferred to him. Why do you think ya had to talk to that kid at the doctor’s? Anyway, ya just put the remains in ya dad’s gun safe. No one will ever find it. It’s bad luck on Timmy’s part if they can’t find his body. I assures ya that someone could climb into that and still not find Timmy.

The gun safe had been in the basement for four years now. ben’s dad had always talked about getting a gun to protect the family, but he never bought so much as a Glock. It wasn’t that his dad didn’t want a gun, but it was the fact that a fun seemed like a large purchase to Ben’s dad. He bought the gun safe from a store that was having a 75% off sale and figured that was the best time to buy it, if any. Everyone had a feeling that Ben’s dad would never buy a gun, but they couldn’t be sure. Luck wasn’t the only thing that would keep people from finding timothy’s body.

***

When Friday came around, Ben decided that the pain leading to death was not worth Timothy living. The dreams of the rabbit he had every night he had every nigh had helped influence his decision to kill Timothy. It would happen Saturday. Blowing off your friends for an entire week of summer had been difficult. By this time, his whole foot turned to ashes and was now completely invisible to his eye.

Ben entered the garage and found a box of trash bags and a box of blue nitrile gloves; the type science teachers have for dissections. He laid some garbage bags around a support beam in the basement and taped them together, overlapping each one so that there were no gaps. He hoped that the blood wouldn’t splatter too much; Ben of course was not an expert, but he had some idea of what would happen when Timothy’s foot came off. He put each box on the shelf next to the cylinder of zip ties.

There was a bike cable to lock up a bike in the garage that Ben put in his room next to the pile of clothes that he would wear tomorrow. The clothes were ones that he rarely wore, ones his mother wouldn’t notice missing. He would hide the bike cable by looping it through the belt loops of his cargo shorts. It would be covered by the bottom of his shirt. Ben texted Timothy that they should hang at his house tomorrow, and Timothy texted that he would be there around 10 am. Everything was ready.

***

            “Good to see you, Ben. Almost thought you were avoiding me. hope you’re not still mad about the rabbit. I am truly sorry about the whole thing. If you’re not experiencing any side affects of not burying the rabbit I guess my grandpa was wrong.”

            “Nah, I still gotta get the shots, but they’re not to bad. I just hadn’t seen you because I was sort of punished. It’s really weird my parents made me put together this bookshelf that they bought a while back. It’s huge, man. Got like 500 pieces. You should see it though, unbelievable.”

            “Well then, lead the way.”

Crap, Ben thought. Maybe I can turn this around. ben walked over to the basement door and opened it for Timothy. Luckily, he took the bait and headed down the stairs first.

“It’s to the right, near the TV and the gun safe.”

            Timothy turned to the right and Ben whipped out the bike cable while hurrying down the stairs. When Ben rounded the corner, he took quiet steps so that Timothy didn’t look back.

“Did you do it on this tarp-thing, then move it elsewhere? I don’t see –” the bike cable slipped over Timothy’s head and around his neck seamlessly. Ben crossed the ends and hooked his thumbs into the loops before closing his fists and pulling each end tight. Timothy tried to pull the cable off of his neck, but it was too slim to slip his fingers under for breathing room. He tried to kick backwards and hit Ben in the groin, but paranoia had caused Ben to put on a jock strap that morning. Timothy’s gasps for air were nearly silent. His face turned a subtle purple, then he fainted. Ben used the zip ties to hand cuff timothy around the support beam. A washcloth was balled up and shoved not timothy’s mouth as a gag. Ben grabbed the boxes of gloves, trash bags, and the container for zip ties.

***

Timothy awoke and took in his surroundings. He accidentally alerted Ben with the sound of thrashing on top of the garbage bag tarp. Ben walked in wearing a cheap foam rabbit mask that only covered the space around his eyes and the top of his nose. The mask was a leftover from a birthday party for his little brother, who at the time, was infatuated with animals.

Ben began reciting the poem in the sing-songy voice, “I’ve got the curse of the rabbit’s foot, take a step, skin turns to soot…” Ben walked closer to Timothy with a meat cleaver from a knife set his dad got for free at Costco. “… Tried to by lucky, but the rabbit died, now its pain to me supplied…” Ben got up in Timothy’s face and said,” This is a real knife for the job.” Ben backed up and grabbed Timothy’s right foot to hold it still. “…Take the foot, of a friend…” Ben struck down with the cleaver and severed Timothy’s foot from his leg. There was a muffled scream. Ben placed the foot in a trash bag and tied the bag shut. another bag covered the leg and was secured with a zip tie. “…so my life, does not end. Take the life, of a friend…” He placed a trash bag over Timothy’s head and secured it to his neck with a zip tie, so that it did not fall off should Timothy struggle more that he was now. Struggle Timothy did – to breathe that is.
…so his soul, in hell does end. I’ve got the curse of the rabbit’s foot, take a step skin turns to soot. Tried to be lucky, but the rabbit died, now its pain to me supplied. Take the skin, of a friend…” Ben cut a large piece of skin from Timothy’s right thigh and placed it on the garbage bag tarp. He wrapped what was left uncovered of the leg with a garbage bag and secured it. the gloves were taken off as well as Ben’s shoe and sock, revealing his invisible foot. Ben put on new gloves, then used the slab of skin life a towel. As he rubbed it on his foot, it reappeared and stopped hurting. “…so my pain, will finally end. Take the heart, of a friend…” Ben took a different knife from the set. He used it to cut off Timothy’s shirt and open up his chest. From there, he broke some of Timothy’s ribs off and ripped his heart out. “…eat it up…” He began to eat the bloody heart. It was still warm, but difficult to get down because of its texture. “… that’s the end.” The body was folded in half at the waist and bagged. Ben then wrapped the bag with the make-shift tarp. Ben used duct tape to reinforce all of this. He placed the waste materials like gloves, clothes, and knives in a separate bag. He put this bag in a separate box before placing it in the gun safe with the body bundle on top of it.

            Don’t come near this safe ever again. The bad luck is in Timothy. His metal tomb emanates bad luck. Nothing good can come from visiting this safe.

***

            After four years, Ben did visit the grave of Timothy Garcia. High school had been rough in the beginning because everyone was talking about the investigation to find Timothy. When Ben was being interviewed, he saw the ghost of Timothy with a missing foot and a trash bag pulled tight over his face. “I did it,” Ben told the detective, “I killed Timothy and I put the body in my father’s gun safe.” The detective acted as if he’d never said this and the camera that was videoing the interrogation happened to turn off at the confession. The case was eventually put aside as there were no leads to Timothy’s body. Ben’s house was even searched, but the gun safe went untouched.

            After that, Timothy inconsistently popped up in Ben’s dreams, but it wasn’t as bad as the rabbit. Timothy did not, rather, could not speak because of the gag in his mouth under the trash bag. Ben only decided to visit Timothy’s grave after he graduated. His parents were planning a huge graduation party that would take place on the first floor as well as the basement. The basement was going to be used as a hangout for the younger kids. Ben remembered four years ago. Nothing good can come from visiting this safe. Little kids being anywhere near the safe was life tempting a dog with a steak. So, Ben decided to cement the safe shut. he figured that the cracks for the door were how bad luck seeped out.

            Ben mixed the concrete in a paint bucket and strained while lifting the bucket to pour the small bit over the cracks of the safe door. He started with the sides of the door, so gravity would help him. Then, he did the top crack. As he bent to pour the cement over the bottom crack, a voice spoke in his head. A safe at 75% off, must be a reason. The front legs broke and the safe fell onto Ben.

Seems like a fitting ending. Ben getting what he deserves. It’s quite a nice ending for a book or a movie, Ben thought, but this is my life. In a book or movie, I could finally have closure for what happened the summer of eighth grade. All of this happened, except for the safe falling onto Ben. He expected it to fall when he bent over; it was both unlucky and it made what the rabbit said four years ago have some sense to it. He hadn’t heard the rabbit in his head either. It was just his mind mimicking the rabbit. The safe had been sealed, so if he was right, then the safe would contain the bad luck. At least there was something good.

***

“Why the hell did you do it?” Ben yelled at Timothy. The dream had come the night after the party. Timothy stood there with the bag still on his head. He didn’t move or make a motion to indicate an answer to Ben’s question. He only tugged twice on the top of the bag and shrugged to tell Ben that he can’t speak with a bag over his head. “You should have killed me! That’s what I wanted you piece of shit! I tried to tell the cops what I did, I tried to make things right, but you decided that you couldn’t just let it be over. You had to drag it out. First, I had to deal with the investigation. I told him. I TOLD HIM! Then, I had to go to school that August and hear all the talk about you. About the secret I created by killing you. You know what they said? You really want to know what they said – Screw it, I bet you already know. Some of them couldn’t fake sincerity and they said that you ran away because you were getting touched at home by your dad. They said that he always looked like the type to do that. I couldn’t let them think that about you, so I told them. I told them over and over hoping that one time it might stick; that one time that I would get so much as a ‘You’re joking,’ as a reply. But no, none of them heard me. Let’s talk recent, I ran up to the podium and screamed ‘I killed Timothy Garcia!’ into the microphone and then got my diploma in tears. They were tears for you! Not tears of joy! TEARS FOR YOU!”

Timothy did the bag gesture again and Ben came up to him and tore the bag back. He removed the washcloth gag and waited.

            “You wanna know why I killed your brother T.J. at the party? Because that’s what you really deserve! It wasn’t my fault that you wouldn’t bury the rabbit. You had the chance to bury that rabbit and you didn’t. You know what, I wanted to drop the safe on you, I really did, but the problem was my abilities are limited to misfortune. You wanted to die, so I couldn’t drop the safe. I had waited four years to get back at you and I couldn’t. Do you know how hard that is? Then, opportunity sprang into my mind. I heard your dad talking about the party in the basement and I realized why you were cementing me in. I could have done any of the other kids, but I knew that this would hurt so much more.

            “Now, in a way, you are cursed with good luck. You have to live with all the mistakes you made. I can’t wait to watch you try to kill yourself, because I know how all the situations will end. The noose will break. The toaster in the bathtub will have a broken cable. There’ll be a blackout with the fork in the socket. You try to shoot yourself in the head and you miss. Try to jump off a building and someone stops you. Garbage bag will break. It could get worse too, maybe you become the worlds oldest man, who also happens to have a photographic memory. The other problem is that your family isn’t burdened with your good luck.

“Your dad will think he’s responsible for his son’s death. He didn’t need that gun safe, but he bought it anyway. If he jumps off of a building, he will splat. Heh, bet right now you wish you had just let yourself rot away and die. That’s how the rabbit’s curse works, you can never truly be free of it. Should’ve just buried the damn rabbit. Funny how on that day you kicked the rabbit away and said you didn’t care about it. Do you care about it now? You know what else is funny? I wouldn’t have thought to kill T.J. if you hadn’t come to seal up the safe. That’s how it ends, Ben. Your actions have consequences. Consequences that can’t always be stopped.”

Ben woke up to the worst day, or should I say week – no maybe month – year? No. – the worst life. He woke up to the worst life.