THE BAG by Tash Broom (An Original Story)

BLOGGERS NOTE: Hey guys! Sorry I don’t have a review for you guys this week. I’ve been wrapping up a lot of series at the moment, but haven’t completed any fully yet, so I haven’t been able to write a review. Instead, I’m posting a story I wrote back when I was under the pseudonym ‘Harley Lynix’. I hope you enjoy!

“Why is it locked?”
That probably shouldn’t have been the first thing I asked, yet, it was. My brows were furrowed, and a curious frown was plastered on my face as we stood on my front porch. The luminescence of my outside light shined onto the two of us below. I twisted the bag around once more to see the front. The zippers were clasped together with a coded lock. My eyes met his once more. His amusement only grew as he remained silent. The cheeky, lopsided grin created an added effect of secrecy to the atmosphere, his hands shoved into the depths of his pockets.
“What’s in it?”
My expression must have said it all as his smirk grew into his wide-toothed grin. His dimples dented his cheeks, and his eyes sparkled in the porch light.
Smart ass. Of course there were clothes in a clothing bag. What sort of clothes? Nice clothes? His bull-riding attire? A Halloween costume? It was coming close to Halloween—but he insisted that he hated dressing up. He was different in that sense. It was one of the many things I loved about him.
I shot him a look. My mouth pressed into a tight line and my eyebrows were high, hidden underneath my fringe. It was proving to be difficult to fight off the smile that was insisting on breaking through. He could clearly see past the faked stern look that I was trying to portray.
My expression melted away the moment he pressed a kiss onto my cheek, brushed a lock of my strawberry blonde hair behind my ear and traced my jawline with a calloused finger. My eyes never left his as he gently pulled back, a small yet sweet smile spread across his rugged features.
“Good night Keira, I’ll see you Saturday.” With that, he returned to his old ute and rumbled off into the night.
Not much else happened that night. I flopped myself onto my roommate’s bed after hanging the bag in my closet. She barely addressed my presence, finishing her video game and telling her friends that she would return shortly. She turned to me slowly, in a way that had me envisioning that a fluffy cat would be perched upon her lap and a dark expression would be plastered on her face.
That didn’t happen of course. She instead, crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap, waiting for the rundown of the night.
She didn’t get what she was expecting.
I told her about the bag and about how cryptic Zeke had been acting. I told her about my theories and what I thought he was planning. Throughout the duration of telling her the story, we slowly migrated to the kitchen so Lucy could make herself dinner. She put on the kettle as she listened. I perched myself on the kitchen counter, knowing my mother would be horrified if she ever found out.
“Maybe he’s a murderer and he needed to dispose of his bloody clothes?” Lucy suddenly let out a dramatic gasp and grabbed my hand. “What if he’s trying to frame you?”
I pulled away from her, shaking my head. A smile laced my lips.
“He wouldn’t frame me,” I chuckled. “There’d be easier ways. He lives on four hundred acres. I think he’d have better options than framing his girlfriend.”
Steam bellowed out of the kettle the moment Lucy finally started to prepare her noodles. She twisted the fork between her fingers and crossed the kitchen floor to grab the kettle.
“Should I be concerned that you’re not ruling him out as a murderer?”
My shoulders shook as I laughed, unable to remove the grin across my face. Lucy finished making her noodles, twisting the hot food around her fork.
“He’s allowed to have hobbies too.” I joked. Lucy smiled.
“Don’t come running to me when he tries putting you in a body bag,” Lucy warned as she sauntered back to her bedroom.
Jumping down from the counter, I headed for the shower readying myself to snuggle beneath my blankets to watch an episode – or ten – of Supernatural.

The next day was consumed by work. By the time night rolled around my mind was so concentrated around what was in the bag I couldn’t help but call Zeke. We spoke normally at first, our conversation flowing as naturally as it always did. As we spoke, I gravitated towards my closet, my fingers lightly running over the soft material of the black bag.
“Lucy thinks you’re a murderer,” I mentioned abruptly, forgetting about our debate on cats and dogs. Dogs, of course, were better.
The line went silent for several moments.
“Because of the bag?”
“No, because of your love of Disney movies,” I sarcastically drawled. “Of course it’s the bag.”
He chuckled, the rumble of his deep voice bringing a wide-toothed smile to my face. I leaned against the wall near my closet. My fingers still fiddled with the coded lock.
“I knew I shouldn’t have kept her alive. She’s too smart. She’s discovered my secret. I’ll have to dispose of her.” He joked. I knew he was smiling. Probably spread across his unmade bed, his phone to his ear.
“Can you do it somewhere else? I really like this house the way it is. I don’t want it haunted or blood-soaked. Too much stress, you know what I mean?”
It was like I could hear him shaking his head out of the bizarreness of the conversation. Or that he pursed his lips before he tried to discreetly move onto a new topic. His plan worked as I didn’t complain about listening to his day on the farm.
The following week seemed to drag on. Every day when I woke up, I looked at the bag. Whenever I went to bed, I looked at the bag. Whenever I was in my room, I, of course, looked at the bag. It was getting bad. I would try a new code and after a few tries I would dismiss the idea. Zeke wanted it to be a surprise, so I should give him the satisfaction of it being just that. I did constantly think about what was in the bag, but I always kept dismissing the idea, as nothing seemed to properly fit his personality. Some days it even got me wondering on how well I actually knew him.
I expected to stay awake the entire night on Friday as the big day loomed closer and closer, only hours away. I had no idea when he’d be getting here. I had no idea what was in the bag and I had no idea what he had planned for the day. I could only wither away in anticipation as the hand on my clock ticked closer and closer.
It was now that I wished that I believed in God. I wished that I could just pray for it to be tomorrow. Even then, it wouldn’t work. Life wasn’t like that. Patience. Life was always trying to teach you patience. I absolutely hate that life lesson. I’m not a very patient person at all.
I don’t remember when I fell asleep, but I do remember shooting up straight in my bed as the door slammed open. Lucy stood at the door way, two steaming hot mugs of coffee in her hands. Her eyes were wide and a smile was spread across her face in a way that was somewhat concerning.
“Don’t panic, it’s just me!” she exclaimed, plopping onto the bed. “But I did bring you coffee for that natural morning anger.”
I swung my legs over the side of my bed and grabbed the coffee out of her hands.
“I don’t hate mornings.”
“And this is why I think you’re friends with Satan.”
I rolled my eyes despite the smile that was on my face and sipped at my coffee.
“So what are we doing up at,” I checked the clock on my bedside table. “Six a.m. on a Saturday morning?”
Lucy turned to face me, bringing her steaming mug closer to her lip. She blinked a few times and then took a sip. Once the mug was lowered, her lips were pursed.
“I’m afraid I can’t release that sort of information with someone of your status.” Lucy suddenly rose from her seat and exited the room. “Get ready, we’re leaving at eight.”
I nodded, regardless of the fact that she couldn’t see me. My eyes flickered towards the closet momentarily, a grin spread across my face as it hit me; Today would be the day I figure out what was in the Godforsaken bag.
I bounced up from the bed, flinging open the closet door. I wasn’t looking over the bag but instead, I grabbed one of my Maxi Dresses. I then got some underwear and found myself in tow to the shower. I was quick to get ready, not caring too much about my makeup or hair. I was ready in half an hour, and found myself plopping down beside Lucy. Her head was resting on her arms. She opened an eye and peered up at me.
“How do you do this morning thing? It’s like Satan programmed mornings to disallow coffee’s satisfying effect.”
My lips quirked up on one side. I tipped my head slightly, looking at her drained expression.
“You haven’t gone to bed in twenty-four hours, have you?”
She closed her eyes and groaned. Her head shook slowly from side to side. No, she was pretty much a zombie.
“Why don’t you have a shower?”
Her response was slow, but she rose from her spot and slowly hobbled to the bathroom. She shut the door behind her and then there was the sound of running water. I went to fetch her a dressing gown, her towel already hung over her rack. I opened the bathroom door only a fraction to chuck the piece of clothing onto the counter.
After the shower she emerged energised, bouncing to her bedroom shouting a ‘thank you’ on the way through. Upon exiting, she pulled down her black t-shirt, and grabbed my wrist. Her short hair was a ruffled mess, but she didn’t seem to care. She grabbed my bag on the way out, and locked the door behind us.
“Let’s get breakfast!” she chirped.
It was odd to see her this happy at seven in the morning, yet, I never questioned it. I climbed into the car to try and prepare myself for the day but how could you prepare for a day you knew nothing about?
I would’ve never predicted what Zeke had done for me. I would’ve never expected the effort and money that he put into tonight. The day was complete with a spa treatment and Mani-Pedi, paid lunch at an amazing restaurant and getting my hair and makeup done. I would have never guessed, especially since one, it would’ve cost him a fortune and two, he hated the artificial side of beauty.
I collapsed on the couch at home, careful not to ruin my hair as it cascaded in waves down my back in a manner that seemed more like art form than a hairstyle. My finger subconsciously reached for a curl, enjoying the fact that it wrapped naturally around my finger without any effort.
Lucy approached me suspiciously, her hands curled around a pink card. I didn’t look up at her, I found my eyes focused out the window, watching the cars as the silently zoomed past. 
“Zeke told me to give this to you when the clock hit five-thirty. I know it’s a few minutes off, but I’m sure the small details don’t matter.”
My eyes flickered to the card and I didn’t need to ask to know what it was about. Plaster on the front was my name, Keira, followed by three numbers: 2, 8, 9 – our anniversary.I snatched the paper out of her hands and ran to my room. She followed in tow, stopping millimetres away from me. I pulled the bag from the closet and laid it on my bed.
Lucy stood on her tippy-toes to look over my shoulder, watching as I put in the code. The lock clicked open. Slowly I unzipped the bag, peeling back the fabric to reveal a gorgeous, red and black ball gown.
“Oh my… You have to put it on. Right now.” Lucy instructed with a small push towards the bathroom.
I moved, slow at first but then I hurried. I closed the door and proceeded to spend the next half an hour struggling to pull myself into the dress. It didn’t have a lot of skirt like most ball gowns, yet the skirt still flared out. The strapless top started out a bright red, the fabric slowly blending into a deep red before finally turning black at the end of the skirt.
I twisted in the mirror, my eyes focused on the figure that mimicked me. My hair fell marvelously, my makeup was amazing and the dress was beyond perfection. I exhaled slowly.
Lucy’s fist slammed against the door, the loud noise rattled me a little from the unexpected sound. I laughed lightly.
“Are you okay?”
I pulled open the door. Her mouth slackened and her eyes traveled slowly over my figure.
“Where on Earth did you find your boyfriend? Can you get me one?”
I choked on the laugh that erupted from my throat. A hand pressed to my chest as I spluttered on my own breath and saliva.
“No, no, no. No dying.” Lucy insisted, grabbing my shoulders. “You’re too beautiful to cark it.”
I chuckled again, coughing once more. I looked back at my reflection. “He did a pretty good job, huh?”
“Oh yeah, honey. He did an amazing job.”
The doorbell echoed through the house. We both froze momentarily. Lucy looked at her wrist, swore and shuffled out of the room. I followed slowly behind, my hands grabbing my skirts before I moved. I slowly entered the room, my eyes met with his the second I turned the corner. My attention glided over his tailcoat tuxedo, a smile formed on my lips at the sight of the red bowtie perched beneath his chin.
“You look absolutely stunning,” I murmured, crossing the distance between us to wrap my arms tightly around his waist. My head rested on his chest.
“Have you seen yourself? Absolutely gorgeous.” He whispered, his arms cocooning me in his warmth. I inhaled the scent of his cologne, my eyes closed and a smile quirked onto my lips.
I pulled back slightly, my hands remaining by his sides as I looked up at him. His grin could light up a room. He leaned down and pressed our lips together in a quick kiss.
Lucy pretended to gag. “I get the point. Now get out of my sight.”
I hesitated. “I need shoes.”
“Shoes! Of course!” Lucy shuffled to her room, running back with a perfect pair of red stilettos. She dropped them carefully onto the floor and I easily slid my feet into the comfort of the expensive shoes. They’d surely give me hell before the end of the night.
With Zeke’s hand already wrapped around my waist, he guided me out the door and down the stairs after saying goodnight to Lucy. A purple 1956 Ford Ute sat in my driveway. The paint job was flawless and the body looked absolutely perfect. I didn’t dare touch it when Zeke pulled open the door of the passenger seat and watched me step inside, perching myself on the leather bench seat, a bunch of fabric pooling around me. I clipped on my seat belt as he walked around.
We carefully peeled out of my driveway, the sound of the radio silently playing.
“Whose car is this?” I breathed, my hands running over the smooth black and white seats. My eyes examining the fake wooden interior and the white leather steering wheel.
“Mine. All those extra hours I said I kept putting into the farm was actually to work on this beaut. I wanted tonight to be perfect.”
I grabbed his spare hand and squeezed. “I have no doubt that it will be.”
He looked towards me the moment a car pulled out of a street to our left. They hadn’t seen us despite our headlights. The car crunched into the side, throwing me towards Zeke. The seat beat yanked back, burning my chest and slamming my head against the window. The car spun, the tyres screeched and Zeke tried his best to get control back but adrenaline was pulsing through the both of us. Our eyes were wide and I was sure both of our minds were wondering if we would survive this.
The car inevitably flipped and the window shattered beside Zeke’s head. I blinked to stay awake, trying my best to remain conscious but my hearing was interrupted by a mental screech, my mind was shutting down and my eyes drooped. I was unable to stay awake. The night disappeared before me.

Originally written in 2015.

Published by Tash Broom

I just like books 🤷🏼‍♀️

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