The Look 2

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Chapter 2:  Welcome Home, Honey

the-look

Sherman returned from a town meeting exhausted. He wanted Constance to rub his weary shoulders and speak in quiet, soothing tones, sending him off to calm and dreamless sleep. Her gentle nature is truly something to behold, he thought, opening the door in search of her sweet face. That is when he saw it.

He had received ‘the look’ from a few prior girlfriends and it was frightening enough then, but none of them held a candle to Constance. While the eyes and anger of others had shot daggers into his quick retreat, not one had filled him with dread like ‘the look’ staring back at him now.

Constance was not a woman who angered easily. She was long on patience, empathetic to a fault, and knew fact from fiction almost without exception. Everything she breathed, touched, and attempted, was with single-minded, passionate devotion. It was one of many qualities that drew him to her, but he hadn’t considered her passionate focus in this context.

She had only a few faults, the worst of which were jealous tantrums. She had good reason, but Sherman was ill-prepared for jealousy, coupled with murderous intent, in the eyes of his lovely bride. Standing here now, frozen in his tracks, he realized, if looks could kill, I’d be a dead man served up cold on a cement slab, and the colonel would still put a bullet in my brain. Thank God he was with me!

Sherman summoned all his courage, slapped on a bright smile, and handed her a bouquet of flowers that she did not try to grasp. The bouquet fell to the floor and Constance didn’t blink. Neither did her expression soften in the slightest. She just stood there, glaring hatefully, with stems and petals strewn about her tiny feet.
 
“Honey, I’m sorry. I had to attend the meeting at town hall. This was about farming and water for the crops. They might dredge the lake and I had let them know our fields are drying up. I didn’t know it would last all night,” he explained. Seeing no change in her countenance, he finished, “What was I supposed to do?” He stood defiantly, waiting for response.

With her arms still folded across her chest, Constance kicked the flowers from her slippers, never taking her eyes from him, and slipped stiffly into a chair, “Lie to me,” she spat acidly, with rage building in the timber of her voice, “This is how much respect you have for me? You think I’m so unintelligent that you’re going to just stand there and lie to me now,” she quizzed him, with her fury building dangerously close to combustion.

Anyone with eyes could see she was a lit keg of TNT with precious little fuse left. Sherman began to approach and then thought better of it. She’s a volcano about to erupt. Even I can see this one coming on. Then suddenly, his lips turned up slightly as he recalled the first time he’d bedded her and she had been a much more accommodating volcano. He wiped off the grin but it was too late.

“You dare to laugh at me? You think this is funny? I paced the floor all night wondering if my husband is alive, dead, or with the town whore, and you’re smiling? How dare you,” she screamed, “So it’s hilarious that you worried your wife sick”?

Constance shoved her chair back standing ramrod straight and crossed the room. Fisting the first heavy object that came into her hands, she sent a prized Louis XVI sevres hurtling toward him, nearly clipping his ear, as it whizzed past his head and shattered against the wall along with his hard won calm.

By Wildfire8470

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© February 23, 2017 – 07:36 PM – All Rights Reserved

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Tagged: Lust, Love, Romance, Jealousy, Tantrums, WiP

Reckless Rita and Feckless Fred

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Reckless Rita and Feckless Fred


Feckless Fred

 

Dear Diary,   12/8/2015

 

I’m sitting here next to feckless Fred, except now he’s dead, and I’m about half seas-over working on my sixth pint of Conqueror Black. I found a crate in the back of his truck!

 

That’s the last picture I took of him, right before Thanksgiving dinner at the community club. Well it’s half the picture. Old feckless was getting an early start. Nothing new about that, but tonight is the first time he really hurt me.

 

I downloaded the pictures, cut off his head, and pasted it onto a silver platter surrounded by bloodied mashed potatoes. You’ve got to love Photoshop! I stuck it on an e-card and wrote, “It’s what’s for Dinner – Happy Feckless Turkey Day”!

 

Well, it made Olivia laugh and I got to vent. What Fred didn’t know never hurt him…until now. (Snicker!)

 

Okay, so murder is wrong and way out of my comfort zone, but it was really self-defense, so I know you will forgive me when I explain why. 

 

Only you and Olivia know that the things I said weren’t premeditated. You know, stuff like, “If he comes home stinking drunk again I’ll do something drastic”! I never really meant it. I was just blowing off steam.

 

I was pissed and spouting off recklessly like I do. You know stuff you say in anger like, “I’ll spike his drink with Drano” and “If he lays a single hand on me, I’ll go Unabomber on his worthless ass”.

 

Tonight he busted through the locked bedroom door. Old feckless blackened my eye and split my lip. He tried to bludgeon me with the marble lamp and I snapped! It was like getting struck by lightning. Zap! Then everything after is a moment of newfound clarity.

 

I suppose, by now, I knew I’d kill the bastard someday. I just didn’t know it would be today. 

 

Knowing his nightly routine, I waited to hear him turn the faucets and fill the bathtub. I heard the water splash in protest as he lowered his fat ass into it. (Talk about the size of Amarillo!) 

 

Tonight, I stopped threatening and issuing impotent warnings. Feckless knew it was just hot air. He knew I was just blowing smoke so tonight, I made good on them.

 

No one can say I didn’t warn him, but this time, Feckless went way over the top and he pushed me to my ultimate limit. It was time to put up or shut up!

 

Olivia knew it. She told me, “If you forgive him, he thinks he can beat you all the time and get forgiven all the time. All that teaches old feckless is that he’s right”. 

 

He thinks he can abuse me and get off with a few crocodile tears and well-rehearsed words. I showed him.

 

Geeze, she sure was right. She spoke with the voice of personal knowledge, warning me, “One day you’ll make a decision or he’ll force you to, if he doesn’t kill you first”. 

 

She offered to let me stay over when he really had a snoot-full. Until tonight I was damn near living there but just like she said, feckless Fred forced me to choose. 

 

It was his life or mine so I did the first thing that came to mind, though I did fantasize about it since the day after I married the son of a bitch.

 

I went to the tool shed to fetch a long extension cord and plugged it into the wall outside the bathroom. Then I got the toaster and plugged it into the other end. Silently, I cracked the door open.

 

Fred got up when he saw me enter. Before he could make a move, I lobbed the toaster, high and hard, and yelled, “Hey Fred, go deep”!

 

You should have seen his face when I pitched the toaster into the tub. Oh my goodness gracious! It was so much better than I’d imagined a million times! It was absolutely priceless! 

 

Well, what now? I have to call Olivia straight away; maybe she’ll know what to do with fried feckless.

 

RR

 

 

By Wildfire8470

 

Wildfire8470

 

 

 

 

 

 

© December 08, 2015 – 07:21 AM – All Rights Reserved
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Tagged: Abuse, Alcoholism, AmEditing, Chosen Family, Comedy, Drama, Dangerous Women, Flash Fiction, Friendship, Humor, Matricide, Murder, Psychological Fiction, Unrelated Family, WiP

Between the Devil and the Deep, Part 3

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Between the Devil and the Deep

Part 3

 

sirena-3

(Photo (c) kiaarax

The axe fell and Jake was extremely fortunate though suffering a good deal of survivor’s guilt. He saw three good friends let go along with many less tenured personnel at Carson & Rand, but he had been promoted to fill a new slot at the company.

 

It was no secret that two positions, now vacated, were conglomerated into one and retitled. One man to do two jobs would ease the burden on the company and would certainly make or break the man appointed to do it.

 

Carson knew Jake was the man for the job. Jake can do this with his eyes closed. He’s been covering for those slackers all year, he thought, recalling that he had hand-picked him from throngs of applicants two years ago.

 

In him, Carson saw a ‘mover and a shaker’, a younger replica of himself. Yes sir, he congratulated himself, Jake will fill the void at a lesser salary and it will still be a hefty raise to him.

 

Jake swallowed hard watching his friends empty their desks and clear out office spaces that he would soon occupy. They said civil goodbyes as he looked slightly past them unable to meet their eyes. He knew it could just as easily be him vacating the premises and he could barely breathe as they filed past him to the door. It was promotion served with a roundhouse punch, upward mobility delivered with complimentary uppercut. 

 

Emotionally and mentally Jake was beaten black and blue. Though relieved he had been spared, he was crestfallen knowing his promotion came at the expense of coworkers whom he liked and respected. My life is a roller-coaster from hell, he thought, scowling out the window.

 

Following grueling weeks of adjustment and weeks of long hours, Jake assuaged his guilt with the purchase of a shiny, new cabin cruiser which he named The Siren. When the load at work finally lightened he took three weeks of leave.

 

Every evening he sailed the sea headed for the same place; the place where she had appeared and everything had changed. He dropped anchor close enough to see the beach where he had met Sirena, or had a momentary breakdown, he reminded himself.

 

This time Jake stayed out all weekend telling himself he had earned a break after the office cutbacks and accompanying anxieties. But while at sea his eyes were constantly scanning, always searching for red hair sparking in the sunlight or anything resembling the mermaid he recalled. Sirena still filled his thoughts and he couldn’t let her go. He still felt unsettled in a way that would give him no peace.

 

Maybe I just need confirmation that she wasn’t real. Maybe that’s closure, he thought, but then tacked on, and maybe I’m fishing for the one that got away. He scratched his chin in consternation, continuing, either way I’ll have a tall fish-tale bigger than the rest, and scowled into the horizon knowing how unlikely it was that he would ever breathe a word of it.

 

Jake cruised several miles out into deeper water, noted dark clouds building in the evening sky, and took it as a personal challenge. He checked the portal weather station and turned the transistor radio on to hear reports of thunderheads and storms throughout the coming night. “Good,” he mumbled, “It suits my foul mood just fine.”

 

Sirena clung to large rocks which balanced precariously atop a sandbar. She could do nothing but hang on for her life and wait, while the driving rain pummeled and stung her flesh. Deafening thunder punctuated by blue-white lightning bolts split the ink-black sky around her. She had never seen her home from this perspective before. She’d never felt threatened by her own world until now.

 

She renewed her tentative grip on slippery rocks and vented her anger trying to best the thunder, she screamed, “I get it! You’re messing with me. Right?” Forgetting herself, she flung her fist into the air and went under again. Scrambling to surface, Sirena realized she could barely swim without her fishtail.

 

She fought to gain ground, pulling her shoulders and torso onto the rocks, angling for a safer position and yelling spitefully, “You’re punishing me for changing the natural order! Right? I thought we had a deal, Poseidon!” Another bolt plunged into murky depths as if in answer, while she watched another enormous wave building.

 

“Rhea should have kicked your ass to kingdom come the first time you ever threw a fit!” Sirena screamed her rage and terror into the driving wind and rain that battered her aching, exhausted body. With too little fight left she tightened her fists and filled her lungs for the next wave.

 

More torrents beat her down threatening to drown, but she wasn’t going to die without driving her point home. With a burst of energy born of anguished rage, she unleashed personal umbrage that matched her fiery hair illuminated in staccato, electric-blue flashes, “You traitor,” she wailed, unleashing hell’s fury, “I said I wanted to try being human! You call this a try? You’re a welcher and a traitor, Poseidon!”

 

Sirena hurled the insult into the torrential night with her voice breaking as rage gave way to throes of impotent sobs, “You make me human and drop me into certain death? That’s it? No warning? Why are you doing this to me,” she demanded, sputtering, coughing up seawater, and facing imminent death, yet raising her fist defiantly.

 

Again, the merciless night saw her hysteria, shrieking and weeping soul-wrenching tears, yet offered no reprieve. Now lost in the virulence of utter madness, Sirena didn’t see the last wave that tore her from the rocks, slammed her back into them and knocked her unconscious. She slipped below the surface, a tiny speck in the vast, violent ocean, knowing that she would die completely unnoticed; utterly alone.

 

Jake heard distinct cries of distress and knew her in an instant. He grabbed the torch in time to see her red hair flashing in white-hot, jagged electric, and shaking her tiny fist in determined resignation even as she went under, time and again. He ran to starboard and leapt astern, with his mind racing, I knew you were real! I knew it! Jake dropped the torch and dove overboard, yelling, “Hang on, Sirena! I’m coming!”

 

By Wildfire8470

Wildfire8470

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Between the Devil and the Deep, Part 1 —>

<—Between the Devil and the Deep, Part 4 

 

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Emmaline’s Story 16

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Emmaline’s Story – On the Inside

Chapter 16

Hell Day

 

Emma-Hell Day

 

 

I dragged my hurting ass to breakfast the next morning.  Aching from head to toe, I straightened my posture determined not to give goon one iota of satisfaction.

 

Danica watched me take a tray and walk stiffly to the table.

 

“Geezzze, Em’, you look like death. Are you okay?”

 

“Oh sure,” I ground out, “Nothing a year long, hot bath won’t fix.”

 

Perched before another poor excuse for food, I mused wistfully, “Oh, do you remember baths; dropping into warmth and soaking away your pain?”

 

Danica touched my shoulder and whispered, “Tonight we hunt. We’ll find something that you can soak in, Em.”

 

Slapping on a smile I didn’t feel, I prepared for hell day. Almost immediately, psych guy appeared calling my name, “Emmaline!”

 

Shit. Here we go again.

 

Without flinching, I raised my hand, “Present!”

 

“Be present in my office in fifteen minutes,” He said angrily, as he walked away without so much as ‘hello, goodbye, or kiss my ass.’

 

Helen shot an unnerved look at me, “They know it was us.”

 

“No way,” I confided, “it’s not about that.”

 

“What then,” she drilled me.

 

“Suffice it to say, the score is, us: 3, them: 1,” I informed her, wincing every time I moved a muscle.

 

“What? Did you do something last night?”

 

She looked worried sick and I half-feared she would spontaneously combust, so I did my best to ease her tension, “It was nothing. I can hardly believe they noticed.”

 

Danica jabbed a spork into flapjacks, shaking her head, and I was suddenly riddled with guilt. I broke down and told them, “I just left a teeny, tiny, little message on the scrolling marquee last night. It was nothing, really.”

 

Helen finally smiled, saying, “Besides, they have an elevator to lasso!”

 

“Atta girl,” I encouraged her.

 

She grinned but her face fell as she eyed her breakfast with despair.

 

I leaned in and said, “I have to face psych guy already. You can do this.”

 

I stood to go and then turned to wait. She cut off a piece and popped it into her mouth trying not to show her distaste, while I hid how badly I felt for her. Before I could rethink it, I grabbed my spork, jabbed it into her breakfast, and shoveled a big piece of her meal into my mouth.

 

I must have turned six shades of green just trying not to wretch. Helen laughed right out loud. The sound of her laughter made me feel brand new. Even Danica and Marie were joking and laughing. I walked to the inner sanctum mentally patting myself on the back.

 

When I arrived at psych guy’s office the door was closed. At times like this, he really grated on my nerves. I stood there thinking over my predicament,

 

I can knock. I should knock. It’s his office, but he showed me no zero respect in front of everyone in the community room, and I didn’t get to eat breakfast!

 

Finally, I grabbed the doorknob, twisted and barged in, and flounced into my usual chair declaring loudly, “Present!”

 

“So you are,” he mumbled into his palm, unimpressed.

 

“Sir, yes sir,” I saluted him not bothering to stand. Even my bruises felt like they had bruises.

 

Mercilessly, he stated the obvious, “It would seem you’re not quite up to your usual standards, soldier.”

 

I rested my head on my hand, nearly crumbling. His stare burned into me. He was just waiting for me to break, to disintegrate into dust so he could be rid of his problem; me.

 

Smug bastard!

 

“What is it, Emma?”

 

“Emma,” I shrieked, “Don’t you dare presume to call me by a familiar name! You dont know me and I don’t trust you! You haven’t earned my trust and neither has any of the staff! You fire off your orders, not once considering that we’re all here for a reason. A profoundly ugly reason! If I gave a shit, I’d ask what your major malfunction is, but to be perfectly blunt, I couldn’t possibly care less than I do at this very second!”

 

I gave him no quarter, not even a space of breath to interject anything before I stormed out, slamming the door behind me. To my stunned disbelief, he didn’t follow.

 

 

By Wildfire8470

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© June 14, 2015 – 04:09 AM – All Rights Reserved
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