Twenty minutes later.

This was written for a writing contest.

Twenty minutes later she decided it wasn’t worth it and shot him in the head.

It was the high point of her day. After that, things started looking up. Figuring if she threw the body in the cellar, left the light timers on, packed a bag and walked out the door like she was going away for a few days, no one would start suspecting anything until Monday at the earliest. She’d have to remember to put some cutesy message on the machine about her absence and him spending the weekend loafing so don’t expect a call back. Hmmmm, that was a good idea. What else? Next time she off-ed her husband she’d remember to plan for it better. This last minute stuff really sucked.

Were they supposed to have dinner with the Johnstons this Saturday or next? She checked her book and realized it was this Saturday. Damn! Definitely need to plan better next time. She called Sally who, thankfully, wasn’t home and left a message about having to leave for a family emergency and she’ll call her when she got back. No – it’s nothing to be worried about just a mother who was feeling a little nervous and needed some TLC. Sorry for the last minute but you know how mother’s are. Talk soon. Bye.

She picked up the broken plates while planning where to go and what to do from here. She could get some cash from the bank and sell her expansive jewelry. Best thing was to leave the gun here. It was his after all. She could bring hers if she needed. It was at that moment she remembered his safety stash of cash and went to check and see how much. 20,000 in cash. Now she knew it was a good thing she had shot him, he was so totally holding out on her! Jerk. She kicked him for good measure.

Hmmmmmm. What’s next? Well now was as good a time as any to move him downstairs. That brought up a challenge. He was damn heavy and, pardon the pun, dead weight. It was hard and tedious – drag, stop and rest, drag, stop and rest. Imagine how hard it would off been if she hadn’t been weight training at the gym. This was ridiculous! Maybe she could just leave him here? No, that really wouldn’t work – anyone could see him through the back door window. That meant she would also have to clean the kitchen floor. And table. She kicked him again for the inconvenience of it all and went to get a pad of paper to make her to do list.

Stuff to do:
Move body
Clean kitchen
Change message
Pack bag
Get gun and pack
Get money and jewelry and pack. (?) maybe not so good idea on jewelry.
Call Sally (she put that on there so she could cross something off)
Take shower and change clothes (she just realized that she was a mess too)
Leave as quickly as possible

She couldn’t think of anything else at moment and decided to try moving him again. She briefly wondered how hard it would be to hack off his arms and legs but decided that was just too messy. And time consuming. That thought gave her the added strength to get him to the top of the cellar stairs. From there, she just pushed and he rolled down. Wow – that was really loud. She looked through a few windows to check and make sure no one was around. She couldn’t bear the thought of going down cellar to tuck him into a corner somewhere, so she just got the box of moth balls from the hope chest and tossed them down there with him.

She crossed that off the list.

A shower first made no sense and she couldn’t pack her bags covered in blood so she started on cleaning the kitchen. She forced herself not to do her normal over the top cleaning she would have usually done. She would never be back here again so who cares? It was harder than she ever imagined to leave some pinkish coloring on the floor. Harder still to leave it on the table. But, hey, she was in a hurry and no one was coming for dinner. With one last swipe of the rag, she finished the table, opened the cellar door and tossed the dirty rags downstairs with her dead husband. Cross that off her list.

Shower next, then pack and she could get out of here.

She felt so much better after the shower, like a whole new woman. She wished she had time for a bath but the time waited for no man or woman. She grabbed her overnight bag and began packing her clothes. All her comfortable clothes went in, a sweater and 2 extra pairs of shoes. Good thing she didn’t have a shoe fetish. What else? She looked around blankly and for some reason couldn’t remember why she was packing. Oh right. Shot the husband. Ok. What else? I’ll bring a heavier coat in case it gets colder tonight and do I think I will need gloves? No, probably not. She gathered her toiletries and stuffed them into her bag, closed it up and decided to bring her bigger purse from the closet. The one she had now wouldn’t fit the gun, her jewelry and all the money. The bigger one really didn’t go with her coat but them was the breaks. She could get another purse later, one that better matched her jacket.

As she was looking around for anything that she might have forgotten her attention was catch by a photo on the dresser. She and he, at the beach, smiling, happy, together. She removed the picture from the frame and stuffed it into her bigger purse. Happy memories were few and far between and it paid to have a token of them against the dark days to come.

After she transfered all the items from her old, small purse to her new, bigger purse she crossed “pack” and “shower” off her to do list. Not much left now. She got her gun and the money, put that into her purse and crossed that off the list. What’s left?

“Hi you’ve reached the Howards. We can’t come to the phone because we are in the bedroom making mad passionate love and really could care less about your message at the moment. Your choice if you want to leave one or not.” That was way over the top. “Sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now but I’ve killed my husband and am making my get away. You can leave a message but I really won’t get back to you.” Always pays to tell the truth. She debated and tried to come up with something cute but in the end she just left the old “We can’t come to the phone right now. Please leave a message. Thanks.” message on. She decided she really couldn’t cross that off her list. It just wasn’t right.

One last look around. She wandered through her house, looking at all the stuff, in neat prefect order. All her books and pictures, all trappings of a life that wasn’t hers by choice and wondered what happened to the idealistic woman who was going to change the world. She knew what happened. That women died in the dishes, vacuuming, the laundry and the boring, mundanes of everyday life. Enough. Time to move. She decided she couldn’t cross “leave quickly” off her list. She had spent too much time for that to qualify. Screw it. She crossed that and “change message” off and tossed the completed list in the cellar.

Keys in hand, she left her house. Throwing the bag in the truck, she opened the garage door. Why couldn’t he have gotten a garage door opener? What was the big deal? Tossing her purse in the passenger’s seat she got in the car. That purse really doesn’t go with anything. Maybe getting a new one will move up on her the priority list. She drove out of the garage, closed and locked the door and got back in her car and drove away.

She decided to stop at the bank first then drive a few hours before stopping for the new purse. She also realized that she would have to get a new vehicle and wondered what that was going to look like. I could steal one. God, I haven’t done that in years. I could buy an old junked car. She pressed the gas to move froward when the light changed green, still thinking about the vehicle change.

She never saw the drunk driver that ran the red light, crashed into her driver’s side and killed her instantly

In accordance with their wills, they were buried side by side with one tombstone. The tombstone was shaped as a double heart merging together and inscribed with: Together forever. Love endures.


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