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I don’t know if anyone remembers one of FergC’s challenges on the Cloud when he asked us to get in touch with our darker writing selves and be the villain? I hated it. Sobbed as I wrote, in fact, but my goodness I was stretched by it and just a tiny bit shocked at how wicked I could be.
I hope to stretch you now…
There’s a body.
Whether you’ve stumbled across it or are responsible for it is entirely up to you. But the focus is not the body; I’m not looking for gore. The focus is the motive, the setting, or the impact this act/discovery has on you.
You have 450 words. Don’t hold back.
(Certainly stretched and apologies for one fleeting mention of blood!)
444 words excluding title
Behind Closed Doors
Neighbours stood around gawking. I saw them from the window as I stood handcuffed to a policeman.
Our quiet cul de sac was a scene of mayhem with ambulance and police cars; blue lights flashing.
The paramedics stretchered him out in a body bag. Whispers. What had happened in the respectable household, whose recent occupants kept themselves to themselves and caused no bother?
The ambulance drove away. The police ushered away the small crowd and began cordoning off our home: the scene of crime. I was led out with my head covered and put into the back of a police car in the manner which is shown on tv. Strange how a silly detail made me smile at that serious time. I was going to have plenty of time in the cell to reflect on this and how matters had got so out of hand between me and him. I can’t bear to say his name. That way what I’ve done doesn’t feel so personal.
Formalities over, I sit in the locked cell trying to keep composed, knowing what my grim future holds, but I cannot feel regret. He deserved it.
I shivered and that was when the vision came of stabbing him with amazing accuracy right through the heart. He fell to the kitchen floor with the chef’s knife oozing his blood. It ran over his body and onto the tiles; a red river.
Did I really dial 999 and admit to killing him? He did not scream, being taken by complete surprise, so no neighbour was alerted. It had to have been me. So I suppose I was regretful. I realise now that I was in shock then and still am.
I lie down on the hard bed and shut my eyes, hoping that sleep comes to shut out all of this horror.
All that happens is that my mind races. My life does not exactly flash before me, but fragments come and go in a whirl of mixed emotions.
A romantic beginning which grew into what I believed to be a perfect relationship. We didn’t marry, but moved into the house together; the icing on the cake for me. I’d always dreamt of living in a luxurious home, coming from a less than salubrious neighbourhood.
The change of abode also marked the change in him.
A raspy laugh escapes my throat. Cliche: he began to show his true colours.
This morning I could no longer take the abuse or the betrayals and so here I am as broken in spirit as his body in our home.
My defence? How could those gawkers know what went on behind our closed doors?
Episode from long-running tale ‘The Blacksmith’s wife’
Kick a corpse to life and you’ll inevitably disturb carrion.
Tao knew this but only recalled it on attempting to leave his inn-room. The body that had earlier impeded his exit messenger for the man whose name Tao had evoked in hope of boosting his financial standing, believing those who abhorred the trappings of authority were like to have a minimal grasp of underworld allegiance. Face to face he questioned his own sanity.
The man’s gaze alone persuaded him to admit he carried letters he was willing to sell on, falsely reassuring , ‘No need to be reticent, Tao, all is known.’
And Tao’s recollection of the dagger concealed within his sleeve, merely confirmed the man could read his mind. ‘Think that again and ‘twill be you who die. So long as I’ve the letters you stole in Lisbon I’ll remain reticent about your other crimes. The Englishman in Dublin did not require them?’
‘He would not pay.’
‘ Certainly, I shall not.’ Snake-smiling eyes watched Tao forge features to neutrality before adding, ‘Not until you’ve dealt with Carrion Jack.’
‘”Dealt?’
’He has a thing of mine.’
‘You want it back?’
‘Not now she’s been used.’
Tao and Carrion Jack had fought but also thieved together, once shared a cell. Jack understood Tao’s abhorrence for altruism; appreciated that receiving payment for his letters necessitated his dealing with the woman Jack had appropriated for himself, now merely warning,
‘Unwise to kill one who understands the use of herbs, e’en though a witch; necessary you deceive.’
’Witch?’
Tao, imagining old crone, cross-finger swore his oath, only to instantly be made wary when, stepping from the shadows. young and comely, with knowing eyes of lichen green, addressing: him: ‘Had you a brother Gabriel?’
Tao’s stare red-black accusation. Jack’s innocence opaque: ‘I never said! I never! But I did tell you to treat witches wary…’
Tao, to her ‘My brother lives.’ Eyes tried to slide but hers. pennyroyal effective in aborting his untruths, momentarily barbecued his tongue.
‘His wife?’
‘You left her for dead. I saved her. Your brother near died of grief, survived only on her living. I’m one of many who’ve sworn revenge on you.’
Tao gathered strength. ‘As I swore to deal with you.’
Jack, mistakenly forgotten:
‘Both of you have first to answer unto me. I’ve a healthy respect for herbalists but beware, my moss-eyed maiden, I know stronger ones than you. And, Tao, like you, I straddle the law when needful, but would draw the line at murder of a with-child woman.’
‘She’s not dead.’
‘No thanks to you.’ [440 words including title]
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