I’ve been here for six hours now, staring at the same four grey walls, the same half-drunk Styrofoam cups of cheap, bitter coffee.
“Where’s your wife, Tommy?”
“Thomas,” I correct them.
“Where’s your wife, Thomas?” I can tell she doesn’t like me, doesn’t believe me.
I’ve told them the story three times already. We had only just moved into the house, and started re-decorating as soon as we were settled, pulling up carpets and stripping the old, faded wallpaper. The staircase had been boxed in with plywood boards and we wondered what condition it was in underneath.
When we uncovered the door, Kelly was excited, “We’ve got a basement!”
I went to find a torch, Kelly couldn’t wait, “I’ll just take a quick peek.”
Those were the last words I ever heard her say.
She didn’t even scream.
“Where’s your wife, Tommy?”
“Thomas,” I correct them.
“Where’s your wife, Thomas?” I can tell she doesn’t like me, doesn’t believe me.
I’ve told them the story three times already. We had only just moved into the house, and started re-decorating as soon as we were settled, pulling up carpets and stripping the old, faded wallpaper. The staircase had been boxed in with plywood boards and we wondered what condition it was in underneath.
When we uncovered the door, Kelly was excited, “We’ve got a basement!”
I went to find a torch, Kelly couldn’t wait, “I’ll just take a quick peek.”
Those were the last words I ever heard her say.
She didn’t even scream.
Dale Parnell lives in Staffordshire, with his wife and their imaginary dog, Moriarty. You can find information about his collections of short stories and poetry at -www.facebook.com/shortfictionauthor
😊👏
ReplyDeleteThank you sir!
Deleteheck!
ReplyDeleteMy inclination here is to say, “fuuuuccccckkkk!”. So I’ll say it, FUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKK! So good, Dale!
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