The misty night flogged the helpless neighbour hood as it laid in silence only the homeless fested the streets at this time, with everyone tucked in bed only one person was alive, more alive than she had ever felt; Mrs Fletcher stumbled to her bedroom pulling out Fletcher’s clothes, glancing at his clothes she pulled out a pair of scissors and sliced them into pieces and chucking them out of the window. Glimpsing at the night sky the big yellow moon shone down on the rabbit’s hutch catching her attention. She finally decided on how to get her revenge on the back stabbing vermin whom she despised. With extreme wildness she immediately ran down the stairs opening the garden door cackling like a witch she set her dark gleaming eyes upon the rabbits hutch. The helpless rabbits set their big eyes upon the crazy woman who started pulling her hair out like a restrained mental person stuck in an institute. The madness of the night was coming to an end the mad woman who was pulling out her hair had stopped and was sniggering at the hutch full of rabbits. Mrs Fletcher pulled out a chainsaw and pointed it to the rabbit hutch and started laughing hysterically. The madness of the chainsaw was too hard for Mrs Fletcher to control as it swirled out of control. Mrs Fletcher seized one of the rabbits and viciously tied it to the tree in the back garden; presently before murdering the innocent creature Mrs Fletcher wanted to leave her tred marks behind. She kissed the small creature on the forehead leaving behind her red lips nicely coated on the white fur; all of a sudden she was fighting with the chainsaw for control as she began chopping up the rabbit passionately. The rabbit’s insides flew everywhere like doves released for the first time. Mrs Fletcher smiled as she picked up the rabbits heart and clobbered the blood from it leaving a taste of bitterness. The blood was a source of energy to Mrs Fletcher as the adrenaline kicked in and got Mrs Fletcher more hysterical.
The tenderness of Mrs Fletcher’s body twisted her fiery eyes looking directly at the rabbit hutch the madness corrupted Ms Fletcher again as she began to pull her hair faster than before, instantaneously she began to push her hair back brushing it with her cold fat fingers just before her next crusade she added a dose of lipstick to her dry, rusty lips. She snatched another rabbit from it hutch tenderly whispering in the rabbits ear “have a nice night”. She rushes the rabbit inside the house and hangs it by the fur upon the dart board, ushing her lips on the creature she left her trail with the perfectly made lips upon the rabbit’s forehead. She takes hold of the darts and looks at them “I’ve never played darts before today’s a good day to start hahahah” she laughed sarcastically and started pounding on the darts chucking them at the rabbit. One by one they landed in different position on the rabbit, first dart in the eye as the liquid gel spilt to the floor. The second dart landed in the rabbit’s head as blood discharged from the rabbits head and mixed with the gel from the eye, the ugliness of the two mixed together scared away the moon’s light.
Her face hardened as the fury and self hate rose from her, it was his fault not hers; she would show him, if he thought he could do this without punishment she would show him. Mrs. Fletcher noticed that her lipstick was running out so she scuttled her way to the bedroom to locate some more. She swung the bedroom door and marched down the stairs a soldier of vengeance. She was briefly aware of the cold cement on her feet, the cold night air against her skin; she shrugged these feeling away letting her rage flood her. She approached the fearful rabbit with bitterness and hatred, how could it be her husband favoured this lowlife infested animals instead of her. She detained the rabbit strangling it via its throat whilst using her other hand to stroke the rabbit’s fur, her twisted and deluded self had just hit rock bottom. She added another coat of lipstick to her lips; the red lipstick drew attention to the suffering creature as if knowing what was to come. Mrs Fletcher used this red lipstick in particular because Fletcher had awarded it to her always saying “It brings out your eyes”. The strangling came to an end as the inadequate rabbit came to its death bed yet not before Mrs Fletcher left her mark. She kissed the rabbit also leaving presentable lips upon its forehead.
The madness kicked in, the bomb which was going to explode had gone off. She ran around the house bellowing like a wolf in the night. She searched endlessly for what she didn’t even know. She smashed her wedding photo and began to cut Fletcher’s clothes and spit on them. Mrs Fletcher’s gloomy eyes turned bright red when her eyes were set on a black figure of a rectangular shape at the end of the cupboard. Mrs Fletcher’s shaking hands took hold of this item as her eyes turned from red to pink as she knew what had to be done. She was to shoot the last remaining rabbit dead. Mrs Fletcher walked like a model down the stairs whilst waving the gun in her hands, the craziness hovered inside of her, she had never felt so free and she was in control for once. She opened the hutch and snatched a rabbit. The furry brown rabbit whimpered and tried wobbling free, he had seen what happened to his fellow friends, and he didn’t want to be next. Mrs Fletcher hung the rabbit on the washing line, as she groomed the rabbit’s fur with her sharp nails; she took a few steps back. With such will she suddenly pointed the gun at the poor innocent rabbit. “Where shall we shoot you? In the stomach? Nah, in the chest? Nah, I think we should shoot you in the head” Mrs Fletcher yellow teeth spitted out butter as she laughed with hysteria.
BANG, BANG, BANG.
A woman of words and not of deeds is like a garden full of weeds. And when the weeds begin to grow it’s like a garden full of snow. And when the snow begins to fall it’s like a bird upon the wall. And when the bird away does fly it’s like an eagle in the sky. And when the sky begins to roar it’s like a lion at the door. And when the door begins to crack it’s like a snicker across her back. And when your back begins to smart it’s like a pen knife in your heart. And when your heart begins to bleed your dead and dead and dead in deed.
By Ljaureta Krasniqi