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    Rot: Part 5 - Gum But Not Forgotten
    Rot: Part 5 - Gum But Not Forgotten
    Rot: Part 5 - Gum But Not Forgotten
    Ebook47 pages40 minutes

    Rot: Part 5 - Gum But Not Forgotten

    By Aidan J. Reid

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Ray's in a spot of bother.

    The faun prophecy marked him as 'the chosen one'.

    Though they damn well didn't make it easy.

    Cast adrift in the human world. Watching his hopes fade with a dying faun.

    The hopes of the Kingdom rest on his shoulders.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAidan J. Reid
    Release dateMar 28, 2020
    ISBN9781370812530
    Rot: Part 5 - Gum But Not Forgotten
    Author

    Aidan J. Reid

    AIDAN J. REID is a writer originally from Cloughmills, Northern Ireland.He has written four novels:PATHFINDERS - (sci-fi)The Tom Regan thrillers, SIGIL and YAGERAISING LAZARUS - (suspense)He has also written several short stories and is most proud of the ROT collection, which tells the story of a rogue tooth fairy who pulls teeth out of the mouths of kids for a tidy profit.You can find out more on aidanjreid.com, follow him @aidanjreid or get a bunch of free goodies by following his newsletter - http://eepurl.com/c7ffO9

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      Book preview

      Rot - Aidan J. Reid

      Part 5: Gum but not Forgotten

      Aidan J. Reid

      Part 5: Gum but not Forgotten

      by Aidan J. Reid

      First Smashwords Edition © 2020 Aidan J. Reid

      All rights reserved.

      No part of this e-book may be reproduced in any form other than that in which it was purchased and without the written permission of the author.

      This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      -

      www.aidanjreid.com

      -

      Cover design – My Own! Aren’t I clever?

      Part 5: Gum but not Forgotten

      Shit! Piss! Crap!

      He’s laying flat on the floor, face buried in the carpet, bony backside raised in the air like its offerin’ a cyclist somewhere to park their bike. I look over to the little group around the portable TV. Four mops of hair, various shades of purple rinse like bruises. The one nearest looks around.

      Shelley, she calls. Shelley doesn’t seem to hear so she shouts again and gets a response from somewhere upstairs.

      PK has fallen off his seat again, the woman says and returns to the gameshow.

      I’m tucked in at the armchair rest. Too stunned to do anythin’. Not like I ain’t seen a dead body before. It’s just that this body was supposed to be my bridge outta here. There’s heavy thuds across the ceiling. A cheap lookin’ chandelier, thick with dust rattles. I look up and trace the noises as they reach the stairwell.

      I sprint to the edge of the armchair, jump down the crack between cushion and armrest. I burrow down, fighting to get closer to the ground. Reversing backwards I dangle my legs out and use my hands to lever myself down the chair. The fabric is loose and my grip is strong enough to inch my way down before leaping when I’m safely in range that I won’t break an ankle. Or worse.

      Steps on the stairs. The floorboards creak. Mumbled curses under her breath.

      I look over to the four pensioners who still only have eyes for the hot-shot young gameshow host. The mountain in front of me, with a curved downward slope of a back that would make a great skateboard ramp, suddenly falls to one side. The eyes are wide and terrified. Lifeless. His face is gray. One hand is still clutched to his neck. Red scratches light up the pale skin. The other hand is flopped out on one side, palm open. On the wrist, peeping out under the gray cardigan, there is a marking. Faded lettering.

      Think, Ray, think! The words of my Dad come to me, ‘Whatever you do, always give 100%. ‘Cept when you’re donating blood.’

      So I do what any good detective would do in the circumstances. I run across and loot his pockets. Well, the one pocket available to me given he was layin’ on the other. I jump up, catch onto the belt, haul myself up and over and crawl inside his pocket. A second later, I hear a door open.

      My god! PK!

      The pocket smells of sweat

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