A Writer’s Death

A slightly depressing one today…I’m not planning to do this at all but it’s interesting imagining the feelings and emotions.

She sat down to write.  Nothing new there.   It was a daily ritual.  She never knew what would come out of her pen these days.  But this, she knew exactly what to say.  Everything was clear.  She knew what to do.  Write the letter and leave it.  Walk to the river.  Find something heavy to weigh herself down just in case panic made her want to survive.  Walk into the river.  Drown.  Simple.  Everything resolved in one easy move.  No more voice.  No more headaches.  No more noise.  Just quiet death.  He would understand.  He always understood.  He looked at her with such compassion.  She wished she could feel better.  For him. 

***

Her coat was wrapped around her ankles and it clung to them like a persistent child.  She felt the cold penetrating her shoes, her stockings, her calves and up her legs.  It was like icy tentacles shooting through her veins.  Still she stepped deeper.  There was no turning back this time.  As she stepped in to the fast flowing muddy water her coat released its grip on her ankles and floated out like a balloon.  The stones in her pockets felt like lead weights dragging her body deeper into the river.  She was cold to her chest now and had to keep breathing steadily to stay fixed on her goal. Gravity stepped in and was pulling her down.  Her plan was working.  The tide felt strong but each muddy step felt like an iron anchor sinking into the mud bottom.  Each step grew harder as she tried to pick her feet up and take another step deeper.

The shock of water on her face made her falter.  It slapped some sense of reality back for one second and as she opened her mouth the water rushed in.  Her head was pulled backwards as the river pulled at her hair.  The cold ran through her insides too now.  It wouldn’t be long.

***

The armchair sagged under the weight of years.  It lay waiting.  The window opened over the lush garden while the door shut it out.  Blossoms nodded around the window behind the glass.  A light drizzle spattered on the window.  It was dark and cold inside.  The electric fire glowed fluorescent against the tiled fireplace.  It barely penetrated into the room.  The books shivered on their book case and were huddled together for warmth.  Paintings hung limply on the dark, damp walls. 

He’d taken to being in her rooms, waiting for news.  He knew she was gone but the cold comfort from her rooms comforted him.

***

He knew she was dead.  He’d known on the first day.  It was now the fifth day.  He waited.  For the telephone call, or the knock at the door.  Everyday he walked to the river tracing the steps he thought she had taken.

They had found her walking stick abandoned on the bank.  He roamed the canal path for another sign but there was none.  He knew he wouldn’t find anything.  She had planned this.  It hadn’t been a clumsy mistake when she’d come home soaked to the skin the other day.  She had tried then, but something had gone wrong.  This time she had been better prepared.  It had been definite.  She didn’t plan to return.  Her letter had told him as much.  He didn’t need to take the letter out – he had memorised it in the first few moments of reading it. 

***

It was three weeks before they found her.  She had been abused by the tide and by the elements.  The local boys had mistaken her for floating driftwood and thrown stones at her lifeless corpse. 

Fifty Word Inspiration

Fifty Word Inspiration

This is from a writing challenge when I had to pick from a number of choices and write a story in 50 words.  I chose….

Decade is a period of ten years.
Century is a period of one hundred years.
Millennium is a period of one thousand years.
“Together forever” lasts a fortnight.

That is, statistically.
That is, in about 90% of cases.

That is also why romantic mathematicians are so hard to come by!

(“On the Importance of Not Being Literal” by Standing Ovation, Seated)

***

A mathematician once said that “together forever” lasts a fortnight and after a passionate two week fling Tess had to agree.  Visions of bridal gowns and corsages danced across her mind.  She could get a job here and give up her boring office existence for sun, sand and sangria.  Life could be a beach….couldn’t it?

“Ladies and gentlemen we have completed our pre-flight checks…” intoned the nasal air steward.  Tess rubbed the sand between her toes and smiled ruefully.  Her “forever” had finished.

(It’s not 50 words, but it’s close!)

Conversation in the Dark

This little snippet of conversation is the result of a writing challenge (see previous posts!).  It turned out to be something that nightmares might be made of!

A Conversation in the Dark

“Where are you?”

“Here.”

“Where’s here? I can’t see you!”

“Here….hold out your hand.”

“I’m so tired.”

“I know, me too.” Fatigue was the killer – as soon as you let tiredness in you were done for. They had long since been forgotten about. Lost to society, but in the darkness they had found friendship and comfort in conversation. They had never met in the light but knew each other’s voices intimately. From what he could tell the other one had cracked ribs and possibly another broken limb. It had taken days for him to realise that anyone else was there. His companion had been unconscious for so long that he had actually tripped over him in the darkness. He had woken him up screaming in agony and so confused that he didn’t know who he was anymore. He had closed his eyes as if accepting death.

Conversation in the Dark - Woman sleeping

Conversation in the Dark – Woman sleeping

While he waited for him to regain consciousness, he slept fitfully, with disturbing dreams. Ogres, monsters, falling and then flying. Snakes, darkness, tombs closing. Sleep was worse than the current situation so he slapped himself to keep himself awake.

“Where are they? Why hadn’t they come?” He repeated over and over to himself. It echoed in his head as all his movements echoed around the darkness. Silence was the answer and it was deafening.