Sometime last year, I started on a novel. But then, various distractions took place during that year. The result was something that was born with passion but suffered a premature end due to excuses. So I thought I would publish these “short stories” (in this blog throughout the course of this month and next) and hope that it would give you some pleasure in reading them.
Wondering what went wrong in his life, he moved into the bedroom where he was reminded time and time again that this was not his house. The bilious monstrosity near the window barely gave him a nod of affirmation but made as if to move towards the bed. As he slipped into bed, entreating his tiredness to take over, the monstrosity, which civilized people called “a wife” turned on him much like the monster in Jane Eyre and screeched her tonsils out.
“For better or for worse” was the oath that was slung around his neck and it seemed that for the last three decades he has been trying hard to stay above water just so he could extend his already miserable life. “For what?” he consistently thought. Like all humans who believed in a monotheistic monolith, he suffered in silence crying and praying only in the confines of his wounded heart. When he finally lay his fast greying head on the pillow, which he was also made to understand was not his, it was four a.m.
With the snoring carcass next to him, he managed to drift off to a tortured sleep, a part of him being readily aware that his lifetime partner could at any fancied time do the bidding of the demons in her head and bring about his death without provocation. With this unwelcome expectation taking over his sleep, he dreamt of his death and his wife’s last words, which were a razor sharp chill that cut through bone and sinew.
As dawn threatened to break, the sky turning a bruised purple and then subsequently a burnt dull orange; a duet that included an aria of flatus was taking place between husband and wife. As the toxic miasma emanated from the bedroom through the window and into the garden below, the neighbourhood cat, with her whiskers shivering and its feline eyes watering took to her paws.
The smell of rot it seemed was intrinsic and very relevant to this particular house on Governor’s Road.