Final Justice

It wasn’t until she heard him gasp that she realized he was still alive. What was it going to take to kill this bastard? Maybe she had not mixed enough Wolfsbane in with the tea leaves. She stood over him with her left hand on her hip and the hunting knife in her right hand. She took a deep breath, looked at the knife and thought what a pain in the ass it will be to clean the blood stains off the handle. But, for the $50 cost of the knife, it would be easier to just get rid of it. She tried to remember if she had to give her ID when purchasing it at L.L. Bean in Freeport last month… struggling to remember the conversation with the sales clerk…

“Ma’am, you realize this is a hunting knife? Skinning and dressing large game. It’s a great bargain, many people buy the Buck Pathfinder.” the clerk went on and on. She was starting to wonder if she was caught up in some sort of an infomercial and was waiting for the “special offer” that comes at the end of the sales pitch. Well, it never came.

“Yes, definitely for hunting, I’ll take it.” Little did he know, she was the one being hunted and really just wanted it for protection. The 5-inch blade would allow her to conceal it easily and then defend herself when and if he got too close.  

She almost used her credit card to purchase it, then realized her mistake and grabbed it from the clerk’s hand as he started to turn away.  “I’m sorry! I meant to give you cash.”, she said forcing a chuckle and trying to appear nonchalant. He was slightly taken aback, but smiled and headed to the register with her $100-dollar bill.

The clerk smiled as he handed her the change, the bag and never asked for identification or for her to fill out any sort or registry for purchasing the knife.

She kneelt down down beside him, his eyes wide, questioning. His hand grasping at his stomach.

“What’s the matter, baby? Do you have a tummy ache?”, she asked him though she already knowing the answer.

Then he glared into her eyes and for once she felt no fear or condemnation. Deciding against using the knife, she stepped back, taking a few steps backwards to the chair and decided to let nature take it’s course. Surely, he can’t last much longer. It’s been an hour already… she chose to wait it out, to sit there and watch him suffer… as he did to her so many times before. How many times had he beaten her and then just sat on the side of the bathtub watching as she was forced to clean herself up and listen to how she had forced him to “teach her a lesson”.

Leaning forward, returning the glare she asked him, “who’s the little bitch now, huh babe?”

At that moment he turned his head to the side and began vomiting. The poison was working… and soon she’ll be free of him forever.

The Tailor

This Friday morning will begin the same way every Friday has been for the past three years.

I crawl out of bed at 7am, my eyes wet with tears. Make my way to the coffee pot to start a full pot, muttering to no one but myself, “You’re going to need a lot of this today.”

I sit at my desk and pull up photos on the computer of us. Remembering the love and joy we shared.  Three years ago today, Jason was at the tailor picking up his suit for our wedding, when he collapsed. The doctors said it was a pulmonary emboli, a blood clot to the lung. I was assured it was quick and that he didn’t suffer. That he felt no pain and died instantly. Perhaps Jason felt no pain, but I am in pain still, suffering his loss.

Three cups of coffee later, I make my way to the shower. His shampoo bottle still there, an ever present reminder. I make a mental note that today is the day I must discard it. After getting dressed in black dress slacks, and a black short-sleeved crew neck blouse, I put some make-on, another cup of coffee and a Xanax for my nerves, I prepare for my day.

On the way to my first stop, the florist, the memories sneak out of my eyes and roll down my cheeks. Katherine will have two white rose bouquets waiting for me, as she does every Friday morning.  As I walk in she greets me with a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek. While we exchange chit-chat I see the pity in her eyes.  I told her I would not be needing these bouquets anymore after today.

She walked up to me, embracing me while whispering in my ear, “You’re doing the right thing, it’s going to start getting better now.”

“I hope you’re right Katherine. I hope so.”, I muttered fighting back tears.

Saying good-bye, she reminds me about our lunch plans for tomorrow and I just smile at her, already formulating an excuse in my head why I will cancel tomorrow morning.  As if reading my mind, she warns me she is picking me up at noon and to be ready.

A short ten minute drive to the Tailor shop, feels like hours today… I pull into the side street adjacent the shop and take one of the bouquets from the back seat of the car. Every time I open that shop door, the buzzer startles me…jolting me back into reality for a moment. Frank gets up from his desk behind the counter and greets me with a smile and a warm hug. Frank is a tall muscular man and when he hugs you, you feel safe and protected, as if you’ve been properly hugged.  He takes the bouquet from my hands, commenting on how beautiful it is while setting it in the waiting vase. He’s been kind enough to allow me to bring these flowers in every week as a memorial to my precious lost love.

“Frank, this is the last bouquet. I can’t do this anymore.” I told him, fighting for breath.

He turned to me, grabbing my hand in both of his, and said it would be okay. As Frank walks me to my car and opens the door for me, I thank him for his friendship and make my way towards this morning’s final stop.

Driving to the cemetery, I can sense Jason in the car with me, I can smell him and can almost feel his hand resting on my right thigh, something he always did while I drove, just rested his hand on my thigh; reassuring, lovingly. I slowly place my hand on my thigh, sensing him there.

I find my favorite parking spot vacant, underneath a large Royal Poinciana. I know when I return to the car it will be covered with red flower blossoms as they fall from the branches, somehow making me feel as if the tree shares in my sorrow.  Slowly getting out of the car and pulling the last bouquet from the back seat I slowly walk to the graveside of my love… wondering what his expression would have been seeing me walk down the aisle on our wedding day, the wedding day that never came. Suddenly a breeze blows and takes my breath away, stopping me in my tracks. I stand there a moment, enjoying this heavenly embrace and realize that I’ve made the right decision to end this Friday ritual.

Slowly finishing the short walk to the gravesite, I am flooded with memories. I gather my thoughts and dry my eyes, placing the bouquet on the headstone and blow a kiss to my love.

via Daily Prompt: Tailor

Resist

This isn’t about Republican vs. Democrat.

It’s not about male vs. female, black vs. white.

And it’s definitely not about illegal immigrants.

This is about standing up for what is right, what is just and what is humane. People, with valid visas and green cards, are being barred from entering the United States based on ignorance, bias, discrimination, and fear.

The seven countries affected by this travel ban include: Libya, Sudan, Syria, Iraq, Iran, Yemen, and Somalia.

I have seen many people cheering this ban, stating that they don’t trust muslim refugees, period. Blaming refugees for the terrorist  attacks of 9/11 without realizing that those terrorists were not refugees! Those men were radicals, and might I also add, ignorant fanatics. Additionally, from countries NOT AFFECTED BY THIS TRAVEL BAN.  Why are we not blocking countries that terrorist actually originate from? Let’s not forget either, the home-grown US citizens that have gone rogue.

By lumping all Muslims into the “terrorist” basket, am I also to assume that all white Christian males are KKK?

We must RESIST. We must stand up for what is right. We must continue to try and educate the ignorant and to open their eyes. Invite them to see the entire, big picture.  Tunnel-vision has taken over and we are missing so much of the beauty that our diversity has to offer. Blind, misguided hate is destroying they very foundation of our democracy.

via Daily Prompt: Resist

 

Tomorrow

Tomorrow

As she lay beside him watching him sleep, her right hand resting on his bare chest, rising and falling with each breath.  His body felt so warm, just being able to touch him brought immersurable comfort to her troubled soul.  She wondered how he would react to the news she had to tell him today. She’s been stalling in telling him that she finally got the biopsy results back. He stopped asking if she’d heard back from the doctor three days ago, because each time he asked it made her cry.  She’d put it off for two days now…today she’d tell him, over breakfast. She’d make his favorite.. banana walnut waffles with a fried egg over medium.

She slipped out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. Pulling out the ingredients from the pantry: flour, baking powder, sugar… grabbed the eggs and milk from the fridge. Set everything on the counter and turned around to open the blinds over the kitchen sink… the sky was dark, thick heavy clouds. Thunder storms are rolling in. Hmmm… the news can wait until tomorrow… she wants to enjoy this day of cuddle weather with her man.

 

The Daily Post: Second Thoughts

Mysteries of the Universe

Mysteries of the Universe

Love, Friendship, and sincerity… three of the most baffling mysteries of the universe.

These three things are not tangible, merely words, or feelings, thoughts… you can’t touch it and honestly, can’t be certain if what you’re feeling, when you think you are feeling it is really true.  People can tell you that they love you, or that you are their cherished friend. But words without action – lack sincerity. Even sincereity  is not tangible. How we perceive someone’s words or action are also dependent on our own wants and needs – and even those are always fluid.

Daily Word Prompt: Sincere

The Books

pexels-photo-3

Sitting in my office and staring at the piles of books, I quietly contemplate how I will rearrange them…once again.

This is how I cope… when darkness hits… this is something that I can control… the arrangement of my books.

They’ve been arranged by color, height, alphabetically, and subject matter.  Hmmm, but today… what shall I do with them?

In the garage I found a few empty boxes… carefully stacking all the books I can fit into these boxes, because today I can’t even cope with rearranging the books.

 

Daily Word Challenge: Rearrange