Sunday, 1 June 2008

Bittersweet goobye #3: We all fall down.

I sat the family down at the dining table; it was only to be used on special occasions. I guess you could say this was one. I don't know why we even made that stupid decision. Whats the point of a dining table if you aren't going to be using it? So i decided to make the most of that pointless piece of furniture. My son and daughter looked at me curiously, my wife unable to even look at me.
"how could you be doing such a thing?"
were probably the words she had to stop herself from screaming out loud. There were 4 glasses at the centre of the table; one for each of us. Each glass was filled with cyanide, and a shot of orange powder mix. My kids would never know the difference. I offered a glass to my 5 year old son first. It was at that moment my wife burst into tears. I took her hand and held it tightly in my own. My children hadn't a single idea what was going on. But my wife and i had discussed this situation months ago. We didn't have a single cent in the bank. we hadn't been paying taxes. And we had wanted to part together. A few hours to let the poison settle, so the kids would go in their sleep, we agreed. It seemed my wife had second thoughts: she pushed the glasses off the table, each one shattering on the hard floor, playing a chilling tune.
"please," she sobbed, "we can work through this"
it was too late, i was expecting this to happen. I withdrew my handgun from my waist and pointed it at her, my loving, loyal wife. My children were huddled under the table, crying. My son was holding his younger sister; he was a good kid.
"I'm sorry"
i cried, tears slipping down my face.
Bang.
I had painted the walls with her blood. One down, three to go.
I heard my children's screams, their loud cries for their mother. I ducked under the table, not a moments hesitation.
Bang.
My sons body fell over my daughters. How beautiful; protecting her even through death. My daughter looked at me with terrified eyes. I was her daddy; I was her murderer.
Bang.
So it was just me left.
I put the barrel into my mouth, the scorching hot tip burned my tongue, i could feel the flesh crippling under the heat. I nearly gagged on the cold stem, i could taste the grease. I took one last look at the bloody walls, the soaked carpet and my dead family. One last breath, one last heartbeat.
Bang.

4 comments:

jake said...

i think this is one of my favourites:) hehe. i think cause this was the one where i helped you with hahahaha!:P no but this is good. my favourite!

min said...

how painful! brilliantly written though jo, I felt my spine tingle. "How beautiful; protecting her even through death."- sad, but powerful sentence :) and that crippling skin, was gruesome!

Anonymous said...

It has a similarity with what happened with Chris Benoit, a really famous wrestler.... whoa de ja vu? well, what ever.:) it's a really, really good composition:)you're a really great writer:)) -Kevin ( can't remember my google e-mail:)) )

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