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Mar 16 2013

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Half a World Away

He staggers up the path to the front door and bellows an incoherent song into the dark silent streets; and she listens to him from their bed. Her body is tense and her mouth is dry from the dread of him bringing home the fighting spirit of the pub. Her mind races with memories of drunken insults, of stings of pain inflicted upon her from the fury of his hand, of bruised skin, of being knocked into unconsciousness.

Shall I pretend I am sleeping? Shall I confront him with the little strength I have left? She thinks.

He ascends the stairs to the top landing where he stops, sways and hiccups; and she observes him through the gap in the door.

I will confront him. I will no longer be afraid of him. I will tell him that I don’t fear him, that I no longer love him. I will tell him I am leaving tomorrow, that it’s over.

He enters the bedroom and switches on the light. She observes his face, his hollow cheeks, his enflamed eyes, and her thoughts and intentions dissipate, and her mouth fails to communicate the words she longs to speak.

He approaches the bed and raises his hand, as he finishes off the violence he began eight hours earlier. She closes her eyes, blanks out the pain and pushes her thoughts away from her sunken life into one that is half a world away.

Tagged Bed, Bedroom, Domestic Violence, Drunk, fear, Half a World Away, Insult, Landing, Pain, Psychological-horror, Psychological-thriller, Pub, Up to 250 Words, Violence

Feb 04 2013

5 Comments

Flash Fiction

Naomi

‘You’re not the woman you think you are.’ Stephen whispered.

With wary eyes, he watched his wife rotate before the mirror in a black satin dress. He remembered when she used to dress so strikingly for him; when they were in love.

‘Did you say something, honey?’ she asked, as she sprayed musk to her throat; completing her dress-up session for the evening ahead.

‘No, I didn’t say a word.’ he replied.

‘Well, I’m done here honey. I probably won’t be back until late, so don’t wait up. You know what it’s like when the girls get together! Anyway, there’s lasagne in the fridge, if you get hungry later’.

‘Thanks.’ he replied.

She leaned over to kiss him goodbye, but he rejected her. The thought of her red poison lips upon his, caused acid to circulate around his stomach. How can she go on acting day after day like she loves me; to put on this one mad hell of a show?

As she turned to leave, his heart fell to his feet. He grabbed her throat and pushed her against the bedroom wall. As his knuckles whitened she choked several times, drawing at her last breath as she grabbed at thin air with her hands. She slid to the floor, her eyes glided to the back of her head. Then life left her.

‘I’d rather see you dead, than with him.’ he said, walking away.

Tagged Deceit, Dress, Fiction, Lasagne, Lies, Mirror, Murder, Psychological-horror, Psychological-thriller, Throat, Up to 250 Words, Writing

Dec 02 2012

6 Comments

Flash Fiction

Anna

It’s four in the morning, and I’m sat in this room of gloom, eyeing pictures of you, of us. The rain clouts against my window, violent yet so soothing. I stroll to the door with my head tilted like a broken doll because I sense you standing in the hallway. The door creaks open, and there you are my love, with those dark eyes of yours; the ones I fell into. I run to you but you run from me, and I can only scream, urge you to return, but you are gone. Then I remember that time has slipped by; almost a year has passed. The panic subsides, yet the pain lingers on. Your voice calls from outside and I wander towards the lake, where I sense you. The front door of the house bashes in the wind, and I leave it behind, allowing silence to envelope me as I walk. And again I remember that time has slipped by; almost a year has passed. I’m at the edge of the lake but you are not here. Where are you? Don’t you want to exchange conversation with me? Don’t you remember us laughing that night, when the sun melted into the sky? Don’t you miss me? I sink to the ground, and my heart can take no more. He played games with the one that loved him. I slide into the water. The coolness soothes my soul, my mind; and slowly I sink into darkness, and I am gone.

Tagged Doll, Door, Eyes, Fiction, Hallway, Lake, Pain, Photo, Psychological-horror, Psychological-thriller, Rain, Room, Scream, Suicide, Time, Up to 250 Words, Wind, Writing

Sep 30 2012

4 Comments

Flash Fiction

The Letter

I stagger along the tree-arched footpath; the bronze light through decaying trees no doubt casting cracked contours upon my face. I take a swig from the bottle. I seek the nearest bench and curl up on its mouldy slats. I eye every passing stranger who looks at me with fear and disgust. I must look vile. I abandon the thought and take out the torn notepaper from my pocket; a letter that he’d left upon the kitchen table for me to find, one year ago. I read it for what must be the billionth time; each and every word causing my heart to bleed, my soul to cry.

My dearest Sally,

I spoke with the doctor today. He said I only have three months to live.

I am devastated. I am lost. I need to run.

I cannot let you see me deteriorate every day.

I want you to remember me for who I am.

I am headed to a place far from here; the sea shall wash away the pain.

Please do not look for me.

I will always love you my angel.

Our love will never die.

Smile your beautiful smile, always.

Your husband,

Charlie.

I take another swig from the bottle, close my eyes, and fall into stagnation.

Tagged abandon, alcohol, bench, Death, doctor, footpath, Heart, letter, Love, Psychological-horror, Psychological-thriller, Sea, Up to 250 Words

Jun 22 2012

Little Waxy’s

The aroma of dim sum penetrates the streets of Soho; arrow neon lights point to seedy downstairs basements, offering the lonesome fellow an offer of three-for-two on adult magazines and videos; and Margot watches the world pass by, teary-eyed, from behind a café window. She glimpses her tired reflection, and thinks, Who am I? How did I become this person I despise? Will I ever escape the tangle of this dark underworld?

She is broken from her thoughts and reflection by her mobile vibrating wildly, next to her half-finished latte; she checks the caller ID and answers.

‘Kelly?’

‘Hey Margot, I’m sorry for such short notice, but we had a call from Fi this afternoon; she’s had to cancel tonight. Are you able to cover?’

‘Yes. Sure, Kelly. No problem.’

‘Great. I’ll see you at eight? Oh, and Margot, bring some silver-sequin nipple pasties; it’s tonight’s dance theme. The men can’t get enough of them!’ She beams.

After their goodbyes, Margot turns back to the window to face her reflection. Who am I? She thinks. How did I become this person I despise? Will I ever escape the tangle of this dark underworld? Maybe one day, I’ll find the courage to pack my bags, wave down the nearest black cab, and leave this place; but for now, I need to earn; it’s all about the money, isn’t it always? She finishes the last dregs of her latte, gets up, and exits the café.