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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Mystery
- Subject: Crime
- Published: 09/19/2021
It wouldn’t be just enough to kill him, no. She really wanted him to suffer first.
Rowan paced the living room several times as she worried her thumb nail with her teeth. She still couldn’t believe any of it.
But how was she going to handle it? Now, that was the question.
Rowan stopped biting her nail and pulled back the bay window curtains and watched the snowstorm brewing outside. Daylight had almost been leached from the sky. Snow was piling up.
She sighed. It had been a final, desperate act, snooping in Dan’s laptop, she knew.
Still, Rowan had held out hope it was her writer’s imagination that had her thinking he was cheating….
If only she had been right.
Dan had joined a gym several weeks ago, had taken to working late most nights and they hadn’t had sex in near a month.
Clues, every single one!
The emails to his mistress explicitly detailed what he’d been doing while she’d been home.
She walked to the kitchen now. Beyond the window over the sink, she watched heavy winds make drifts in the driveway. Past years of marriage raced through her mind with each gust - weddings, parties, movie nights, making love.
It now all seemed somehow tainted. Dan’s absolute betrayal churned like acid in her gut. She made tight fists and pictured his nose breaking beneath them. She had to calm down and think straight. She did the few breakfast dishes on the counter. It felt normal almost, routine, or she convinced herself anyway.
Her eyes cut from sink to falling snow; a huge cyclone of white whipped and twirled across the yard.
An hour later, bundled up and ready to face the elements, she traded the warmth of inside for the below zero outside. She grabbed a shovel from the porch.
As she took her time clearing the drive of drifts, the cold air kept her mind awake, focused, which was what she needed, what she planned, though a part of her, a huge part of her, wanted to just go to bed, pull the covers up over her head and die of depression there.
Hadn’t she been the good dutiful wife? She had loved, honoured and obeyed him throughout their decades long marriage. Supper, despite her hours of writing and constant deadlines, had always been on the table when he came home. And how many times had she entertained his friends at parties thrown in their home?
She’d been the perfect hostess.
And when he broke his leg last winter during that first day of their ski vacation, hadn’t they together made the best of a bad situation? They’d bonded over the two weeks at the Chalet, eating lots, playing cards, watching dreadful daytime tele, and talking and making love like they used to when they’d first dated.
Anger, pure and raw, again swept over her. She could almost believe she saw red. How could Dan just throw away all they had?
She imagined sinking one of her kitchen knives into his gut, watching the life seep from his eyes like daylight from a cold, frozen world.
He did own an old shotgun that belonged to his dad. She could shoot him right in his smug, lying, cheating face.
Or put a pillow over that face while he slept and smother the life out of him.
Ideas, like a river breaking up after a long freeze, churned madly through her mind.
Using her teeth, she pulled a mitten off, then fetched her phone from her jacket pocket. Dan had texted ten minutes ago looked like. He was on his way home.
Another mark against him. He hadn’t even bothered to call her. There used to be a time he’d call just to hear her voice.
As the snow fell, a smile broke across her face. She was a mystery writer, wasn’t she? What would be the perfect revenge for a cheating spouse?
Hurriedly, she shoveled off the three steps that led to the front stoop.
Inside, she grabbed the tea kettle and filled it up.
With porchlight off – wouldn’t do to have noisy neighbours watching - Rowan made several quick trips outside.
When she finished, she flipped the porchlight back on and admired her handiwork from behind the screen door. Ice now coated each step and shimmered darkly under the light’s glare. Snow flurries began to cover it, just as she planned.
Would Dan break an arm, a leg? More? Or maybe he’d break his neck. Or maybe he’d just lie there and freeze to death.
She was okay with whatever happened. She closed the front door.
When car headlights cut into the drive twenty minutes later, she thought only of revenge and how she truly was, serving it up cold.
The End
Rowan's Revenge(Douglas Richards)
It wouldn’t be just enough to kill him, no. She really wanted him to suffer first.
Rowan paced the living room several times as she worried her thumb nail with her teeth. She still couldn’t believe any of it.
But how was she going to handle it? Now, that was the question.
Rowan stopped biting her nail and pulled back the bay window curtains and watched the snowstorm brewing outside. Daylight had almost been leached from the sky. Snow was piling up.
She sighed. It had been a final, desperate act, snooping in Dan’s laptop, she knew.
Still, Rowan had held out hope it was her writer’s imagination that had her thinking he was cheating….
If only she had been right.
Dan had joined a gym several weeks ago, had taken to working late most nights and they hadn’t had sex in near a month.
Clues, every single one!
The emails to his mistress explicitly detailed what he’d been doing while she’d been home.
She walked to the kitchen now. Beyond the window over the sink, she watched heavy winds make drifts in the driveway. Past years of marriage raced through her mind with each gust - weddings, parties, movie nights, making love.
It now all seemed somehow tainted. Dan’s absolute betrayal churned like acid in her gut. She made tight fists and pictured his nose breaking beneath them. She had to calm down and think straight. She did the few breakfast dishes on the counter. It felt normal almost, routine, or she convinced herself anyway.
Her eyes cut from sink to falling snow; a huge cyclone of white whipped and twirled across the yard.
An hour later, bundled up and ready to face the elements, she traded the warmth of inside for the below zero outside. She grabbed a shovel from the porch.
As she took her time clearing the drive of drifts, the cold air kept her mind awake, focused, which was what she needed, what she planned, though a part of her, a huge part of her, wanted to just go to bed, pull the covers up over her head and die of depression there.
Hadn’t she been the good dutiful wife? She had loved, honoured and obeyed him throughout their decades long marriage. Supper, despite her hours of writing and constant deadlines, had always been on the table when he came home. And how many times had she entertained his friends at parties thrown in their home?
She’d been the perfect hostess.
And when he broke his leg last winter during that first day of their ski vacation, hadn’t they together made the best of a bad situation? They’d bonded over the two weeks at the Chalet, eating lots, playing cards, watching dreadful daytime tele, and talking and making love like they used to when they’d first dated.
Anger, pure and raw, again swept over her. She could almost believe she saw red. How could Dan just throw away all they had?
She imagined sinking one of her kitchen knives into his gut, watching the life seep from his eyes like daylight from a cold, frozen world.
He did own an old shotgun that belonged to his dad. She could shoot him right in his smug, lying, cheating face.
Or put a pillow over that face while he slept and smother the life out of him.
Ideas, like a river breaking up after a long freeze, churned madly through her mind.
Using her teeth, she pulled a mitten off, then fetched her phone from her jacket pocket. Dan had texted ten minutes ago looked like. He was on his way home.
Another mark against him. He hadn’t even bothered to call her. There used to be a time he’d call just to hear her voice.
As the snow fell, a smile broke across her face. She was a mystery writer, wasn’t she? What would be the perfect revenge for a cheating spouse?
Hurriedly, she shoveled off the three steps that led to the front stoop.
Inside, she grabbed the tea kettle and filled it up.
With porchlight off – wouldn’t do to have noisy neighbours watching - Rowan made several quick trips outside.
When she finished, she flipped the porchlight back on and admired her handiwork from behind the screen door. Ice now coated each step and shimmered darkly under the light’s glare. Snow flurries began to cover it, just as she planned.
Would Dan break an arm, a leg? More? Or maybe he’d break his neck. Or maybe he’d just lie there and freeze to death.
She was okay with whatever happened. She closed the front door.
When car headlights cut into the drive twenty minutes later, she thought only of revenge and how she truly was, serving it up cold.
The End
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- 4
Lillian Kazmierczak
02/01/2022That was good...nothing like a woman scorn! I hope you write about her revenge. What if she was wrong? Or changed her mind? you have to tell us what happens!
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Sidra
09/28/2021There needs to be a sequel to this! What happens next, did he survive, did he break his leg, was there a massive argument!? Enjoyed the internal dialogue and how it progressed! Very well written, great read!
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Bernardo Mendes
09/28/2021A story of revenge, and we all know that revenge is a dish best served cold, or frozen in this case. Very well written Douglas, good work.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Rachel Roy
09/28/2021This story has an excellent amoungt of detail and believable internal dialog. I love that. But an amazing story like this reminds me just how frsutrating short stories can be. I'm hooked, finish the novel!
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Carol MC.
09/28/2021Wow I love how you portrayed that woman can be as deadly and revenge thirsty than man. A very well written and interesting story! Jr was great
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Christal Donegan
09/28/2021I am a fellow writer and I love to see excellent talent. I enjoyed reading your story and liked the ending very much.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Samoya Browning
09/28/2021Such an abrupt ending that provokes thought. I enjoyed reading and I would love to see more of your work. You are indeed an excellent writer.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Daniel Findlay
09/28/2021Thank you for sharing. This was a great read and I look forward to more of your work.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Shirley Smothers
09/28/2021A story of revenge. Justice served cold. Left up to the readers mind. Thank you for sharing this.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Radrook
09/24/2021I agree, you have very effectively conveyed how furious a woman scorned can be and just how far she might be willing to get revenge. Should never be trusted with the preparation of food no matter how nice they might be behaving while preparing and serving it to the person that offended them.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Lillian Kazmierczak
09/22/2021Douglas you proved that hell hath no fury like a women scorn! Your writing brought out the true emotion she felt at his betrayal. You did a great job in bringing the emotion to life in her anger, her sorrow and her revenge!
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Help Us Understand What's Happening
Douglas Richards
09/23/2021Thank you so much for your comments and reading. It really means a lot. Take care. :)
Help Us Understand What's Happening
JD
09/19/2021Generally I prefer my mysteries solved, but this one was deliciously dangling and left a mystery to the end. Now my imagination is twisting in the wind.... Thanks Douglas! : )
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