Original writing short story - Mrs. -

Mrs. -

Sunday 7th June 1998

She sat on the grave stone, waiting almost for that someone to take her home, white silk scarf floating behind her like thick white smoke. She didn’t want to leave; this was the only place she had left. Ironic to find that a quite, decadent place such as a grave yard was the place she chose to escape her loneliness.

“Please come back” she sobbed. She had no one left, life treated her like dust; nothing more than a nuisance and in great need of being cleaned up.

“It’s not fair, please... c-c-come back” once again sobbing uncontrollably. Passersby didn’t even stop to look at her, immune perhaps, to such emotion....

Monday 1st June 1998

Cooking dinner, swiftly. Half past five is the time he normally gets in, but he’s late. Again. She scans the clock once more, the sweet smell of roast chicken caressing the air with its succulent aroma. She wanted to surprise him;

“A Beautiful dinner is just what he needs for a hard Monday day’s work at the office” she thought. Third try at ringing, with the same familiar response from the answering machine.

“Sorry I’m not here to take your call, but please leave a message” with this, her impatience turns to dread. As she franticly types in the number for the services, she suddenly hears the piercing, loud ring of the door bell. Relief descends over her as she stumbles to the door which reveals her husband, tattered, and out of breath, large rimmed glasses coving up rich hazel eyes, smartly dressed and with a small mop of dark hair, parted neatly.

At this sight, her relief swiftly turns to hate.

“Brad! I was worried sick. Where have you been! ...

This is a preview of the whole essay

At this sight, her relief swiftly turns to hate.

“Brad! I was worried sick. Where have you been! Look at you, you’re a mess what have you been up too?” The cliché of stampeding questions often presented by a wife or a mother in this situation received the same reply of complete silence and confusion.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes! You are in so much trouble!!” she announced followed by a sharp thump to his head.

“Please, I was mugged on the way home. I’m sorry I am la...”

“Don’t you dare use that excuse on me! I know exactly what you were up to, and don’t think I don’t, you were you with that girl again! I know no you were. Now get in doors, right now!”

Sitting at the table delicately eating this delight of a meal, through stabbingly awkward silence. She stood up and walked, frustrated, towards the kitchen.

“Another bottle. Dear?” she sneered through gritted teeth, picking up the ready sharpened cord screw.

“No dear, I’m fine. I had a bottle with the guys before I ca…” catching the smallest glimpse of the ferocity that was her face, he automatically retracted back his comment and apologised repeatedly.

“Anything else you care to tell me, Brad” Although said politely, fury could easily be heard behind this false angel. Again a wave of apologies filled the room with no response or mercy. The only communication given to him was the persistence of eating. Quiet fills the room once more. Tension hanging in the air like a high wire act.

“I appear to have lost my appetite” She said in a calm manner, which contrasted greatly to the mood of the room. She stood up, nudging the chair back with the back of her legs, making the chair grown against the wooden floor. She walked to the kitchen holding her perfect meal, with a fixed tensed expression and a heated sigh leaving him to wallow in confusion and guilt in that candle lit romantic, deathly room.

As she started to wrap the chicken in tin foil, preparing it for another meal, she felt an overwhelming feeling of complete remorse and guilt. Was she too hard on him? Had she spoiled this perfect evening? Maybe she should apologize? After putting the chicken in the fridge, she drifted elegantly towards where her husband was, before noticing that he continued to indulge his meal, even after the absence of his wife.

“What are you doing, Brad?” He turned around, thinking of anything he’d done wrong this time.

“You carried on eating without me. What have I done to deserve this?!” Weeping hysterically, he leaned over, hand on hers to show his support, to find a reply of anger once again.

“Get off!” She flinched. He was accustomed to this behaviour. He stood up and walked out of the room.

“This is all my fault. Why can’t I just be a good wife?” She sobbed once more. She heard rustling from outside, maybe it’s a present. Or a surprise. Her state quickly changed once more to that of happiness and joy. Back to the door, she heard him enter the room again. The coldness of silence descended once more, the mood however not dampening the excitement within her. As footsteps gradually came towards her, anticipation grew more and ever more stronger with every tap, his heel connected to the floor. Her hands clenched and eyes squinted, rigid with excitement, until she could take no more, she had to know what it was. She just had to look. Footsteps stopped. Slowly revolving her head she caught a glimpse of her husband’s face, cold and confused. She then noticed his arm outstretched clasping an object.

“Turn around please”

“What are you doing, Brad?”

“I’m sorry dear”.....