I was cutting watermelon nosleep

I was cutting watermelon.

It was the middle of July and it was hot and humid even in the coolest corners of the basement. So I was in the kitchen with my longest knife cutting watermelon. My friend Judith sold it at the farmer’s market. Said it grew in her garden as easy as a dandelion. The flesh was ruby red on the inside, speckled with pearly white seeds, and so juicy that I was continually wiping the counter as it dripped from the cutting board. I tossed the rind in my compost bucket as I worked. My own garden would be as beautiful as Judith’s in time if I kept at it.

Outside my window I could hear the neighbor’s kids laughing while they played. Somewhere in the distance an ice cream truck's tinkling music started. A dog barked. I had hauled out a big metal bowl and began putting chunks of the watermelon into it. One for me, one for the bowl, one for me, one for the bowl...and so on until the bowl was full. I still had some left after that. I loaded the rest into my favorite cereal bowl. The juice dribbled from my chin and fingers as I chewed. I washed my hands before starting to tidy up the kitchen. The knife was washed, dried, and hung up on the magnet board. I rinsed the cutting board and put it in the dishwasher. I sprayed the counter and the smell of lavender filled the kitchen.

With my bowl of fruit in hand, I made my way to a wicker chair I had set up in front of an oscillating fan. A small translucent spray bottle filled with water sat nearby. I spritzed myself with it and clicked on the fan. Without air conditioning this was a decent way to keep cool. I rooted around under the chair for a book or magazine I might have discarded earlier. An old copy of Better Homes and Gardens came up; I had probably earmarked some crafting project I would never actually do. I was getting tired so I set the empty bowl on the floor and closed my eyes for a minute.

I woke up with an awful taste in my mouth. I got up to get a drink of water and noticed I had blood under my nails. Nothing felt painful but I checked to see if I had some how scratched a mosquito bite in my sleep. My skin seemed unmarred. Maybe it was just dirt. I walked into the kitchen and saw my counters streaked with poorly cleaned blood. So much for a mosquito bite.

I ran to the other room and picked up my cereal bowl. It was full of gooey coagulating blood, bits of red flesh, and white teeth that looked almost like seeds. I succumbed to the urge to vomit then. I brought the bowl with me into the kitchen. I yanked open the door to the refrigerator and scrambled to reach the metal bowl within. In my haste I knocked it off the shelf and it rattled to the floor. The lid came off and more bloody viscera spilled onto the cream colored tile. It oozed into a slick puddle. In the center Judith's disembodied eyes stared at me.

I was cutting watermelon.

Submitted June 21, 2016 at 10:44PM by cooperbee http://ift.tt/28PXGFJ nosleep