"Flora" by Willy Martinez is the author's first short story written for publication. It is included in the Mad Men anthology. Mad Men is a collection of three disturbing horror shorts from writers from the Midwest, specifically, Illinois. The themes explored in this collection range from man versus self, man versus man, and man versus creature.
We will be releasing the full short story in three parts. If you enjoy it and want to support the author or read the full anthology, check it out at Barnes and Noble.
Flora by Willy Martinez
Not wanting the day's adventure to end, he drove up the windy roads through the hills to find a spot to take it all in and boast of his accomplishment. He had to drive slowly because the weight of the passenger pulled the car down low, and these country roads were not meant for old low riders. The car smelled putrid, stinking like old bandages wrapped around a large sack of meaty fluid. It was an extremely hot day and the humidity coupled with hours of hiking were not favorable to this already sweaty skin bag.
The man pulled up at twilight, flicking on his high beams as this evening darkened. An irregular occurrence, he had spent this late afternoon hiking along the limestone bluffs on the pine hills. As of late, this heavy-set man had become interested in nature and spontaneity, so in his possession, he had a picture book of the common flora of this region. Upon pulling up his destination he noticed there was only one other vehicle in the lot.
Blackened with earth, his boots had left a trail that first caught the bartender's attention. The barista wondered if these big prints and dirt trail would lead him to a big man, and they did – once he confirmed his hunch, he called for the waitress. They both now stood behind the bar trying to get a frontal view of the fat man who sat alone, hunching over with a book to his face. The waitress walked over to take his order, but this fat man had refused any food and only wished to quench his thirst with sangria, and why not, he was trying new things. He sat alone reading his book near a poorly lit window and very little outside ambient light. The weather was shifting and the gathering clouds had seized the sky and were now becoming more and more tumultuous.
You couldn't see them at first, but behind the ample man, sat a group of five wine connoisseurs who were clearly employees of another vineyard, for they were comparing chardonnays. "I wish these snotty kids would shut up so I can read," thought the fat man to himself as he surveyed his picture book, studying the various marshland flora.
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Occupied, this obese simpleton had not noticed the four employees standing behind the bar who was currently in the process of drawing straws. However, this wasn't a normal game of straws in which the shorter straw drawn accepted the consequence, in this case, the one with the shortest straw would be the one to lead their prey.
The man was about done with his personal pitcher of sangria when the waitress returned with an effulgent smile, captivating the plumper's mind. Distracting him from his book, she offered him to taste their new cedar wines which only reverted the man back to his newly found zeal for nature. Trying to impress his waitress, he says, "Did you know that red cedar is more common at the edge of bluffs while yellow" –
"Why is that?" interrupted the tall blonde bartender, piercing through his glasses, right into his eyes.
He fumbled for words while the waitress smiled at him, thinking to herself, "What great steaks this man would make." His capacity for analysis was overwhelmed by her beautiful audacity. Without waiting for more than two quick seconds she walked away, shaking her ass in his stuttering face. In her back pocket rested a white and red striped straw.
Once the group of wine snobs left, the man was once again contemptuous, absorbed by the scientific language of biological sciences and botany. The clouds had now enveloped the rolling hills, the life, and the flora, as the rumblings began to tremble the building, shaking the small orangish light fixture that hung above the man at the table.
"I can't do this," says the waitress to the barista and cook standing behind the bar.
"It'll be just like last time, why the change of heart now?" asks the barista.
"Told you she wasn't one of us. We'll make her next." Jokes the cook.
"Oh, fuck off. This one is just so nasty. What's the point anyway?" she replies.
"One less nasty in the world, it's what Jonathan Swift would've wanted," replies the barista.
"Besides, we're poor college kids," jokes the barista.
"You're the one that chose to waste your time debating philosophy," says the waitress.
"It's a modest proposal to prevent this obese man from being a burden to our society," replies the cook.
They agreed it was a melancholy subject for him to be taking up room in their establishment.
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