Rot: Part 6 - Filling Time

By Aidan J. Reid

The final instalment of the Ray Jones story.

THE ROT COLLECTION
Part 1: Origin of the Feces
Part 2: The Tooth Hurts
Part 3: Flossed and Found
Part 4: Plaque to the Future
Part 5: Gum but not Forgotten
Part 6: Filling Time

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aidan J. Reid
• Release date: May 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463185414

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

Book preview

Part 6: Filling Time

Aidan J. Reid

Part 6: Filling Time

by Aidan J. Reid

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

Part 6: Filling Time

Shouts erupt from the speakers. An imagined crowd cheering the arrival of the gladiators. The galleries above are shrouded in darkness again. Shadowy heads in the front seats lean forward to watch the spectacle. Bright spotlights dazzle my eyes. They shine on the yard. No place for the shadows to run. No place for me to run.

‘Fight, fight, fight," come the manufactured cries, reverberatin’ around the walls.

In the wings, the presenter is standing beside the camera. The operator riding it, pans between myself and Ian. The tooth fairy and the faun. Not even close to a fair fight. What did I expect? That she’d give me a chance to escape?

Beyond, and hovering in the wings, a line of green awaits. The officers have drawn their weapons out of their holsters. Restless. Chatter moves from one end of the line to the other.

‘Fight, fight, fight!’

My muffled cries are locked in place by the muzzle. The straps around my head are tight, bound at the back. Ian staggers forward. Looks from left to right. Blood dribbles down his chin and onto his chest. His face breaks into a wince with each step. The left foot hanging limp. Unable to press fully on the ground. Fresh red prints mark the hoof step as he finally stops twenty feet in front, leanin’ heavily on the good leg. He looks up into the dark galleys above, narrowing his eyes. All focus of attention is on him. He gives a silent nod. One that almost looks like smug satisfaction, before clappin’ eyes on me.

I give up hope on the muzzle but point up to the box where our wives are seated. He shakes his head. He’s seen all he wanted. My confusion is complete when he suddenly gives a battle cry and charges straight at me.

He hits me hard on the stomach with his shoulder. Liftin’ me off the ground. I’m a winded punch bag, floatin’ like a speck of dust in the air. I beat on this man mountains back with bloodied hands as clubs, unable to break his stride. The momentum carries us to the wall. He presses me against it, like he wants to paint it a light rouge of Ray.

Gasps from the auditorium as the hulk takes a small step back. I drop from his shoulder and slump down to the ground. Gaspin’ for breath. What the hell’s gotten into him! If only I could take the muzzle off.