How’s About A Little Murdering?

Welcome Dear Readers!  You’ll have to excuse the way I look (if you could see me).  I’ve been cleaning out the blog.  Vacuuming up all the blogwebs and sorting through my old posts.  

Anyway here’s a little murder story that fell out.  It’s not funny, but I kind of like it anyway.  

Imagining Cottonwood

I awoke last night with memories of Cottonwood dampening my pillow.  And though I lay there awake, I refused to go further down those corridors of thought — one room leading to another and another.  The past is best left unruffled by middle night winds of regret and sorrow.

I looked over at Miles who lay peacefully next to me sleeping his untroubled sleep.  As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I thought I might like to take his pillow, hold it over his face and suffocate him –so he could always stay just as he was forever and ever.

But what was I thinking!  Killing Miles?  And like that?  I almost laughed out loud! I would never kill Miles like that.  Never!  That would be much too good for him.

I allowed my mind to drift to the cottage in Cottonwood; just the cottage. The weeping willow in the front yard, the line of pink roses along the split-rail fence and the sound footsteps made on the crooked path of pebbles that led to the front door.  But then, Victoria started to creep into my mind and I pushed her out and slammed the door.

After that, I allowed myself to imagine the lake at Cottonwood, as I remembered it best, shining in the morning sunlight. How it looked before I knew about Victoria. But I wouldn’t let my mind wander down the path to the water’s edge.  I only stayed to look at it from the safety at the top of the crest.

I fell asleep after that and when I awoke, Miles was gone.  I knew where.  Victoria’s flight was coming in early, and then they were leaving for Cottonwood.  Miles didn’t know I knew. He thinks he got the best of me but he hasn’t. He doesn’t know yet about all the money I took and he doesn’t know about the gun I bought.  And I love to imagine the look on his face when he sees it.

***

Until next time  . . . I love you

Trifecta Weekend Writing Challenge: Sean Penn Gives His Mom A Very Special Mother’s Day Gift

The  Trifecta Weekend Writing Challenge: write a 33-word story incorporating the word mother. Here’s try 2:

 

 

Sean Penn Gives His Mom A Very Special Mother’s Day Gift

After the Mother’s Day E-card hurricane, Sean Penn borrowed a rowboat and rowed through a sea of nouns, commas and adjectives to save his mother who was clinging to a raft of spam.

“Ma! Grab onto the boat!  Hurry Ma!”