"The Unthankful" by Wendy York

The Unthankful

by Wendy York

MATT (THE SON: THE CHOSEN)

Matt wakes outside covered in blood. Unable to sit up, he’s on his back choked by a metal collar attached to his dad’s old workbench. His limbs are shackled by cuffs. Staring at the sky filtering through the rotting shed walls, stinging cold bites his skin and a copper smell engulfs him.

God, no. We should have left this fucking town years ago! But his mom wouldn’t leave the home she shared with his dad. It’s too late.

Following Thanksgiving each year, the sun rises over Mosshaven to reveal a family reduced to one sole survivor. “The Unthankful” and his “Red Gatherings” create paranoia that anyone sitting at the dinner table could be an impostor. The Unthankful hiding in plain sight. 

Never imagining he would be chosen, Matt knows what he would find in his mom’s house if he could break free. A family slaughtered. HIS family that HE slaughtered.

Vomit erupts. It’s like being waterboarded because he’s trapped by the collar.  Panicking, If The Unthankful chose me, then I’m the only survivor. Who the hell chained me to this table?

The horrific events of the night before flicker like an old scratchy home movie in cadence with Matt’s heartbeat. Flashes of darkness slice the night into disjointed pieces: 

Meeting his sister’s girlfriend

Star’s definitely Claire’s type

F L A S H

Carrying the turkey to the table

Stealing a roll from Claire’s plate

Her sisterly irritation

The impostor is in control.

But it’s something Matt would do.

The Unthankful is a master mimic. 

F L A S H

Following Star into the bathroom

The carving knife

Shock, fear, panic

Star’s hands wrap around her own neck

Crimson waterfalls flow through her fingers

Her hands switch to clawing his face

Waterfalls now a pulsing geyser

F L A S H

His mirrored reflection

The Unthankful is just getting started

F L A S H

Mom’s voice

“Matt! Grab the Christmas tree from the shed while I clear the table!”

F L A S H

Dragging the tree

The shed door creaks

A jarring thud in the back of his skull

15 hours earlier - Thanksgiving Day

DONNA (THE MOM) 

Donna would certainly know if one of her children had been chosen. The dread lingers as she triple checks the shed. Her preparations are complete.

Last year’s Red Gathering shook the neighborhood. Fourteen-year-old Blake Scott was found pacing the cul-de-sac on Friday morning. Murmuring to himself through sobs, his right hand held his dad’s hunting knife. His aunt’s severed head was cradled in the crook of his left arm. No family left to comfort him. This is when Donna decided Fuck The Unthankful. Not my family.

Returning from the shed, she’s confident. If Claire or Matt are chosen, she’s ready. 

Claire and Star are setting the table. Donna’s breath hitches seeing the joy on her daughter’s face. Has she finally found THE ONE?

Analyzing speech and mannerisms since they arrived, nothing seems unfamiliar. Matt stealing a roll and Claire’s squeal in protest is typical. Donna relaxes a little. 

“Dibbs on that last piece of pie” Matt mumbles through the bite he just shoved in his mouth. “It’s fucking delicious!”

Donna is quick. “Language!”

“Four pieces?! Selfish brat!” Claire says.

Donna’s heart swells. Matt can have anything he wants. The house has felt painfully empty since he moved away for college.

Star folds her napkin and places it politely on the table. “This was incredible, Mrs. Ross. I’m stuffed.” Squeezing Claire’s shoulder, she stands.  “Be right back.”

Matt’s eyes. Something’s not right! Donna feels dizzy when Matt also stands and leaves with purpose.

She darts into the living room and watches Matt enter the bathroom after Star. Donna knows. Matt has been chosen.

Yelling, Donna asks Matt to get the tree in the shed and rushes back to the dining room. She grabs the poker from the fireplace as she passes and shushes wide-eyed Claire.

“Mom!” Claire whispers. “What’s…”

“Shshsh! No time for that, Claire. Your brother has been chosen.”

Terror floods Claire’s face. The back door slams, signaling Matt’s exit and they move to the window.

Donna’s voice is shaky but sure, “Do exactly as I say when I say it. This is the only way we all survive The Red Gathering.”

Through the crack in the shed door, the two women watch Matt pulling the Christmas tree. His back faces them so Donna moves fast. She whips the creaky door open and swings the poker at her son’s head before he can turn around. Her heart is a wreck as he collapses.

Donna sputters “Help me lift him onto this table. Cuff his ankles. Be quick.”

CLAIRE (THE SISTER) 

Claire is panting and crying but following orders. Clicking the second ankle cuff closed, she becomes hyperaware of the silence in the shed. Her mom’s heavy breaths have ceased and she’s no longer standing beside her. She feels a presence nearby though. Claire’s eyes dart left and right searching the shadows for her mom. 

“Mom?” Claire’s voice is barely audible. 

The sound behind her: it’s the poker scraping the ground. She turns in time to lock eyes with her mom as the metal plunges into her gut. Disbelief in Claire’s eyes. The Unthankful lurking in Donna’s.

MATT (THE SON: FIRST CHOSEN)

When the flashbacks stop abruptly, Matt understands even less than before. Not knowing how he got here is almost worse than knowing he was chosen… and what he’s done.

A dragging sound from above his head distracts him from that thought. This fucking collar! He can’t see what’s making the noise. 

His mom’s voice cuts the air. Relief! But it’s fleeting. He processes what she says.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake. I chose you first, Matt. I have never had to choose twice, but your mom forced me to pivot. She was the better choice anyway. I wish I could choose her every year.”