A horror fan since childhood, a geek by nature, and a jokester by heart, Ian believes entertainment, no matter what form it takes, combined with laughter, is the best medicine to combat life's challenges. His favourite movies amongst many others are Aliens, The Thing, LOTR, and Star Wars.
His next release is in the upcoming anthology, "Invasion Of The Saucer-Men from Mars" from Specul8 Publishing to be released this July in time for World UFO Day.
He is a father and is currently living in Melbourne, Australia with his partner, son, two stepdaughters, and 4 cats, which is enough of a horror story on its own.
You can follow his exploits on Facebook at Ian Gielen - Author
REMAINS OF THE PAST
by
Ian Gielen
CHOP.
Tears poured down Vince’s face as he worked. It wasn’t tears of sadness though, no, rather it was tears of relief, of joy, of happiness for what was to come.
CHOP.
Well, okay, if he was being honest with himself, it was also sadness. There is always sadness. It permeated his very being these days. Ever since… Well, ever since his son, Jacob, tired of his seemingly endless mental health issues and stopped visiting him. It wasn’t long after that his heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces. His ex-wife fell asleep while driving and collided with a tree, instantly killing both her and Jacob.
CHOP
He set aside the meat cleaver to take a deep breath. He could feel himself losing control again. It didn’t take much these days. Things would change when he had finished. He was so close now.
He wiped the sweat off his face with his forearm and picked up the meat cleaver again, catching a glimpse of his reflection in its shiny surface. His hands shook as he paused to stare at it, his mind unable to comprehend what he was seeing. It was another figment of his imagination; it had to be. His was a kind face, a face that people could trust. The kind of face that made people feel at ease when he looked and smiled at them. It was a face that had carried him far in his life and brought him much success, leading him to become a manager, a father, a husband.
The face he saw was old, weary beyond its years. Eyes that did not radiate warmth, instead devoid of it. The pain and sorrow he saw in those eyes made him nauseous. It was a pain that wasn’t meant to be felt by anyone. That man was a mess, a lost cause, certainly not him, no, no.
CHOP.
Blood sprayed onto his face, and he quickly wiped it off. Such things were bound to happen with this type of work. It was a necessity really; it meant progress, one more step towards his goal. His salvation.
CHOP.
He chuckled to himself. He was making quite the mess. No matter, cleaning up would be easy. He had planned this out in his head for the last six months and prepared accordingly ever since he had secured his new job. By the end of the night, he would be done.
CHOP.
Tears once again streamed down his face as memories flooded his thoughts. It had happened more and more over the last few weeks as he neared his goal. It wasn’t something he had expected, but considering what he was doing, it wasn’t all that surprising.
CHOP.
Images of his son Jacob raced through his thoughts like a slideshow. His son was born, the tiny precious and squishy bundle handed to him to cradle as he gazed down at his creation for the first time, love filling his entire being. His son, riding his bike for the first time, his joyous laughter filled with excitement as he pedalled whilst he and Jenny clapped and cheered. His son winning the MVP award for his basketball season, his proud smile almost filling his entire face as his teammates cheered for him. The memories of their many holidays, festivals, and days out together flickered past, a montage of cherished moments.
CHOP.
Tears continued to fall as he thought about how it all went wrong. Jenny falling for a co-worker and deciding to leave him. Jenny telling him it was his fault because he was always so busy and depressed. Jacob, living with Jenny because she insisted she was better equipped to look after him. The visits that became progressively shorter and rarer as time went on, before ultimately stopping. The one text that broke his heart from Jacob, telling him he didn’t want to visit “the sad, silent man” anymore. Finally, the phone call he had received from the police informing him of the car accident. The realization that he could no longer redeem himself to his son. Would never get to apologize for failing him.
CHOP.
Another spray of blood joined the partially smeared one he had tried to wipe away earlier. He was almost there now.
CHOP.
It was done. One last thing to do now. He picked up the arm, picking off bits of loose flesh that were clinging to the cut.
He left the rest of the bloody mess of the body on the embalming table to dispose of later, the vacant eyes of Blair, his boss starting at him accusingly.
Blair had been good to him. Out of all the job applications he had submitted, he was the only one who saw past his breakdown and mental illness, offering him a job while others feared he wouldn’t be capable enough or reliable. The position as a funeral director’s assistant had also enabled him to move forward with his plan. If only Blair had stayed away from that locked freezer unit housing his future, it wouldn’t have come to this.
Walking towards the freezer unit, he entered the combination on the lock on the middle drawer. He slid it open, and tears once again filled his eyes, but this time they were tears of joy. Grabbing a needle and thread from the sewing kit nearby, he positioned the severed arm on the body and began sewing.
He had done it. A new son. A new start. He stood there a moment, looking down at his creation. The body, haphazardly sewn together, was a macabre collage of various individual body parts, but to him, it was beautiful. The imperfections were clear: loose flaps of skin, hints of bone, and the occasional glimpse of exposed organs through hastily made cuts.
Sobs shook his body as he climbed onto the tray, curling up next to his new creation and drawing it into his embrace. It might not be Jacob, but it would do.