Basil

• Short story
• Horror

								
“Pass the salt,” Loretta asked, smiling into a boiling pot of tap water. 

I handed her the shaker, grinning right back. She accepted it into her pale hand, using the other one to rub my arm gently.

“Today is going to be a beautiful day again. The sun is beaming, the wind is singing, the sky is bluer than I've ever seen before… what would you say are your Three Beauties of the Day, Leo?” 

She stirred in a hefty amount of kosher salt into the child sized pot, huge and aggressively boiling, singing a tune of its own. 

“The air is warm, the chickens have all been rehomed, and you look stunning.” I flirted, just shy of a full blown come-on. This was a special day, right? I might as well test my miracles. 

Loretta let a gentle giggle pass her plump lips, and began to add box upon box of angel hair pasta into that rippling pot.

“Bold of you. I like it,” 

She cheekily winked at me, and I thought I would have a heart attack right then and there. Collapse on the tile, her by my side. I think I would be okay if that happened, as long as she was the last thing I got to see. I cared for the others, and I always will care for them, but there was something special about her in particular. The girl I had spent my Teachings with in toddlerhood, tended to The Abundance with since we were eleven, and now shared a place in Lyle’s Kitchen with in young adulthood. She was always special, and always would be. 

……….

I remember being eleven years old, rolling out puff pastry with my bare hands, kneading and rolling until my elbows hurt, only to see curly pitch black hair and luminescent pale skin lunging toward me at full speed. 

“You just got back from tending to the Abundance! You haven’t washed your hands, and you have no clue where the rolling pins are! We aren’t making bread, we’re making puff pastry, Leo!”

The tiny girl swiped my hands away, and whisked me off to the sink, squirting lemony mint scented soap into my tiny tanned palms. 

“How is a puff pastry different from bread?” I mustered up the courage to say, a deep ruby blush rushing across my young cheeks at record speed. 

She snorted. She was still washing my hands for me.

“Easy. It puffs.” 

She walked back over to the counter with the dough on it and rummaged through a low cabinet. From it she grabbed a large rolling pin, bigger than her head, hair included. She started to roll and fold.

“Roll and fold, roll and fold, until you have nice layers.” 

She rolled and folded, and rolled and folded. 

“Are you sure you’re cut out to be working in Lyle’s Kitchen?” she teased me. 

“I’m only here because you’re here,” I admitted shyly, watching as she fixed the doughy mess I had made. 

She giggled, revealing a missing front tooth that must have just come out only days ago.

“I know that. I just want to make sure you stay here.”

…………

It was easy to get distracted thinking about the past, tangled in a mess of childhood desire, trying to grasp on desperately to anything that could make you want to stay in this form, familiar and blissful. But I was promised bliss beyond the realm of nature. Loretta and I, and all two-hundred-and-one of us were promised, hand to Lyle, that the future in store for us bore many fragrant fruits, rich and vibrant. We were promised a future bustling with intrigue and wonder far beyond any amount of time any human being could ever comprehend. It was time we were to do away with, and an eternity we were to accept with open, eager arms. 

I was brought back to earth when Landon snuck through the side door of Lyle’s Kitchen, the clunk of his heavy boots unmistakable.

“I come bearing gifts!” he said, holding a large wooden box. 

The easily identifiable scent of fresh basil from The Abundance wafted through the air, acquainting itself with our noses as quickly as a scent could have. 

…….

At times like this I remember being nine, working through the daytime in The Abundance. Loretta and Liam were by my side, dragging little fingers through the soil, soft fingernails picking up dirt behind them, nature’s French tip manicures. 

“The basil is so smelly this season,” Liam said, head half under a wildly large stalk of the stuff, casting a shadow on him.

“Smelly means bad, Liam! You love basil!” Loretta scorned jokingly, throwing a little bit of dirt his way. 

He chuckled, swatting away the little brown flecks as they almost reached his chubby little face. 

“I mean smelly good! It smells a lot. What’s wrong with smells?!” he laughed, scratching his button nose.

“Why, nothing is wrong with smells,” Lyle said, crouching down to our level, dark blonde hair dancing in the early summer breeze, “The basil is quite smelly this year, you’d be correct.” 

He kindly rubbed Liam’s shoulder, and patted his sunburnt head. Liam grinned wide, and took a small bundle of basil for himself, slipping it into his mouth. 

“Thank you Abundance for all the green gifts you bestow upon us!” he said, eyes closed, and chin pointed up to heaven, before he started to chew.

“Have I told you children about the smells of the heavens?” Lyle said kindly, as he said everything else, always pure of heart.

“You don’t know the smells of heaven, Lyle!” Loretta said, a toothy grin on her freckled face.

Liam ate more basil.

“That’s right! I do not have any idea what the heavens would smell like. I don’t think any living creature could,” said Lyle, “Loretta here loves the smell of firewood, as Liam loves the basil, and they together could both rejoice at the smell of basil cooking over an open flame. That smell, tenfold, is the only thing I could imagine the heavens smelling like. Bound to the likes of our peers we will spend eternity with, and the likes of ourselves, who we have known even longer.” 

Loretta and I sat enchanted and enlightened by his words, when we heard the soft choke from beside us. The choke turned into a fit, the fit into a mad, hacking nightmare, every cough worse than the one before. I stepped back, unsure and afraid of what was coming next, as I saw Liam gasping, his lungs begging for air. Lyle stepped back beside me momentarily, locking deep blue eyes with me, before stepping forward once again, slamming his worn hands against Liam’s back. Loretta shrieked, jumping in, and following Lyle’s course of action, throwing flat hands onto Liam’s back. 

“Just breathe, Liam! Just catch your breath!” 

I had no idea what was going on, and what happened next is something I only understood after years upon years of nightmares, which only recently metamorphosed into dreams. Liam’s eyes went red, and red rivers poured out of his nostrils, eyes rolling up toward his forehead. 

Lyle took the child in his arms. That was the only time, even if it was only just a moment, that I had seen fear on his face. It was a ravenous fear, begging to devour all of us whole in one gulp. Liam shook.

The shaking stopped soon. Liam’s chubby form lay limp in Lyle’s arms. The scent of iron mixed with the smells of the many gifts of The Abundance, soon overpowered yet again by the herby scent of basil in the air. His face was blue, red around his nose and lips, eyes in the back of his skull, until Lyle gently shut them.

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