Last light

by | Sep 13, 2012 | Fiction, Flash fiction, Relationships | 8 comments

This is a variation on Slip Away, which I posted yesterday. What do you think?

Last Light
By Laura McHale Holland

She saw the boat so still on the water, their eyes fixed on each other as their laughter rippled into the woods where she stood. She raised her rifle but couldn’t take aim. She didn’t know whether to shoot her boyfriend or the woman who’d stolen his heart. She lowered the weapon and walked away.

When he came home later, no yummy aromas were in the air. She’d promised him a hot meatloaf sandwich and German potato salad. Where was she? Her purse wasn’t on the couch where she always threw it. He dashed to the kitchen, called her name. Silence. Bare kitchen windows. No cat dishes on the floor. He raced through the house. Her pictures, gone. Her furniture, gone. Her toothbrush, clothes, books, plants—gone.

Everything she owned was gone. Except for the rifle. It was tucked under the covers on her side of his bed, barrel up, glowing in the last light of day.

 

The photo is by Kevin Marsh, http://www.flickr.com/photos/kevinmarsh/1801817287/

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8 Comments

  1. Robin Leigh Morgan

    She had expected he had been untrue to her for some time, but never could bring herself to believe that could or would ever become a reality. After all hadn’t she been there for him, taking him in, comforting and supporting him in his moment of dire need; just has he had been there for her when she needed it. However, given this, her gut feeling told her that his unfaithfulness was indeed a reality.

    But, what to do, was something she had struggle with since the first day she had suspected his unfaithfulness. Then the idea struck her, she’ll leave him exactly how she found him; alone, homeless, and nothing in his possession except the shirt on his back. She called her brother, told him what she needed to do and why?

    So on that faithful day she followed him, rifle in hand, ready to shot him; she call her brother to tell him that today was the day to put her plan into action. He came to her house with several of his friends moved everything out of their house and into the huge moving truck they had brought with them aside from their bed where she on place the rifle on her side of the bed.

    Needless to say seeing the house almost totally bare he immediately knew what it meant and sunk into himself when he found the rifle which had been carefully placed under the covers on her side of the bed. Seeing it he realized she had left him the way she had found him, with essentially just the shirt on his back. Now alone again, he could only hope that the woman he had foresaken her for would be just as compassionate as she had been for him the day they first met.

  2. admin

    I think you’re having fun getting into these characters’ heads, Robin Leigh, and I appreciate that. I’d say you have an involved, energetic, even participatory way of reading.

  3. Robin Leigh Morgan

    THANKS for your feedback Laura. It’s most welcomed, and I enjoy the exercise I get in writing as I write my response(s).
    I just hope it will cross over to my first romance novel I’m writing, And hope my readers will enjoy reading it when I get around to self-publishing it by the end of October or the middle of November.

  4. admin

    That’s what we writers all hope for, that’ll we’ll find readers who enjoy reading our creations. :o)

  5. Jerry Kohut

    you can have your cake but no meatloaf lol

  6. admin

    Great to hear from you, Jerry. I love your humor. Back in the day, you probably kept the kids sitting near you in class laughing instead of paying attention to the teachers.

  7. Barbara Toboni

    Laura, I like this story better, a little more information than the last. Love the end with the gun in bed. That says it all.

  8. admin

    Thanks, Barbara. It was your comment on the first version that got me thinking about other possibilities. I’m leaning toward the second version now, too. I wonder what I’ll think when I revisit this one. I’m often surprised (sometimes pleasantly, sometimes not) at how I see something I’ve written after not looking at it for a few months. Is that true for you, too?

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