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What was it? What was it about that specific day? As days go, it had been pretty much the same as any other.
Being woken at 2am by the screaming baby, which was suffering from unbearable nappy rash. Comforting him until he fell back to sleep at 5.30, going back to bed only to be woken by the high-pitched monotone screaming of my alarm at 6. After receiving a brief, lifeless “mornin” when I head out the front door; as my wife is more concerned with getting to her cup of coffee first thing then wishing me a pleasant day at work.
Sitting at the end of my road, watching the early morning rush go by. As 12 foot of road is much more important to the glum faced individuals I spot within their cars, then meeting my glance, offering a brief smile and letting me in.
Arriving at the local village police station, where I have worked for the last 17 years. Looking in vein hope for a parking space in the employee’s car park, before giving in and parking in Stilton Street, (a 10 minute walk away). Walking in 3 minutes late, receiving “that” disappointed look from my superior officer. I would have been on time if “that lady” in the BMW had let me in, but I guess I wasn’t important enough to her to have 15 seconds extra added to her commute.
Regimentally swallowing my unsweetened weak coffee, 17 years I’ve known them, and every day they confirm that we’re college’s/acquaintances rather then friends by failing to remember, strong two sugars.
Hearing the phone, (on my average sized desk), spring into life everyday at 9.15, knowing it would be Mrs Burdock calling to complain that the young man next door had kept his music on the previous night until well gone 11.30pm. 11.40am: The old man at number 14 would call to, “let us know”, that the children that pass his house on their way to school had taken a few minutes out to stop, throw stones at his front door and shout a little abuse before they carried on their way.
Opening my lunchbox, to be greeted by the usual aroma of Tesco’s long-life bread, value lettuce and mild cheese that had been lovingly slapped together the night before by my wife, savouring the flavour and enjoying the usual texture of slightly warm lettuce and soggy bread.
After lunch, hitting the streets, to try and provide a safer environment for everyone, only to feel everyone’s eyes burning a loathing hole in my back.
What was it? What was it about that specific day?
I guess it was that there was nothing specific about it, nothing to differentiate it from any other.
That is why. That is why I find myself here. Standing over my wife’s still body, she, growing evermore cold. Lying there, she just looks so peaceful, like all her care’s and problems matter no longer.
I look at my watch, realizing I have been watching her for hours since I removed the pillow from her face. 1.59am, and I know the baby will not be crying in a minute’s time.
Being woken at 2am by the screaming baby, which was suffering from unbearable nappy rash. Comforting him until he fell back to sleep at 5.30, going back to bed only to be woken by the high-pitched monotone screaming of my alarm at 6. After receiving a brief, lifeless “mornin” when I head out the front door; as my wife is more concerned with getting to her cup of coffee first thing then wishing me a pleasant day at work.
Sitting at the end of my road, watching the early morning rush go by. As 12 foot of road is much more important to the glum faced individuals I spot within their cars, then meeting my glance, offering a brief smile and letting me in.
Arriving at the local village police station, where I have worked for the last 17 years. Looking in vein hope for a parking space in the employee’s car park, before giving in and parking in Stilton Street, (a 10 minute walk away). Walking in 3 minutes late, receiving “that” disappointed look from my superior officer. I would have been on time if “that lady” in the BMW had let me in, but I guess I wasn’t important enough to her to have 15 seconds extra added to her commute.
Regimentally swallowing my unsweetened weak coffee, 17 years I’ve known them, and every day they confirm that we’re college’s/acquaintances rather then friends by failing to remember, strong two sugars.
Hearing the phone, (on my average sized desk), spring into life everyday at 9.15, knowing it would be Mrs Burdock calling to complain that the young man next door had kept his music on the previous night until well gone 11.30pm. 11.40am: The old man at number 14 would call to, “let us know”, that the children that pass his house on their way to school had taken a few minutes out to stop, throw stones at his front door and shout a little abuse before they carried on their way.
Opening my lunchbox, to be greeted by the usual aroma of Tesco’s long-life bread, value lettuce and mild cheese that had been lovingly slapped together the night before by my wife, savouring the flavour and enjoying the usual texture of slightly warm lettuce and soggy bread.
After lunch, hitting the streets, to try and provide a safer environment for everyone, only to feel everyone’s eyes burning a loathing hole in my back.
What was it? What was it about that specific day?
I guess it was that there was nothing specific about it, nothing to differentiate it from any other.
That is why. That is why I find myself here. Standing over my wife’s still body, she, growing evermore cold. Lying there, she just looks so peaceful, like all her care’s and problems matter no longer.
I look at my watch, realizing I have been watching her for hours since I removed the pillow from her face. 1.59am, and I know the baby will not be crying in a minute’s time.
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I just realised the influence of your 'soon to begin' new career on this story and hope it is not foresight.. If you plan to have a family someday please do not wait for approx. 16 years!
very true...like a merry go round!
I killed a man off, for a change, in my last story. What goes around comes around :)
Why do women always seem to assault with a household working item? Is it to rebel against the oppression of having to do the housework all those years ago?
Anyway, thanks for reading it. If you have read any of my posts you will know I have grammatical problems. It was weird when I wrote it though. I had been lying in the bath and the idea just came to me, so I ran downstairs, (having put some clothes on), and just started typing.
It is interesting that you picked up on the fact I had asked the question later that I started with, I don’t quite know why I did that, it just sort of happened.
Anyway, thanks for reading it. If you have read any of my posts you will know I have grammatical problems. It was weird when I wrote it though. I had been lying in the bath and the idea just came to me, so I ran downstairs, (having put some clothes on), and just started typing.
It is interesting that you picked up on the fact I had asked the question later that I started with, I don’t quite know why I did that, it just sort of happened.
It comes full circle in a very pleasing way, I think because you ask what was special about that day in both places. Its a good short story. A couple of grammatical thingys I'm not sure about. It could probably stand a revision at a later point.
I enjoyed it though, but people please stop killing off all the women.
Scarily enough I had just been talking to someone about relationships that become so mundane something snaps. Only in my head it was the woman, and with the iron.
I enjoyed it though, but people please stop killing off all the women.
Scarily enough I had just been talking to someone about relationships that become so mundane something snaps. Only in my head it was the woman, and with the iron.
Thanks for all the comments. :D
Sorry, no constructive criticism. Very enjoyable - everything else seems to have been said. I particularly like the closing paragraph. It was easy to read and flowed nicely.
English_Bloke wrote:
> The baby was male.
>
> And, cheers :)
I found that funny. It's late and I'm bored so I find most things funny.
I liked the story. Bit of a big thing at he end. That was very matter of fact and it fitted in well with the rest of the narrative I thought.
> The baby was male.
>
> And, cheers :)
I found that funny. It's late and I'm bored so I find most things funny.
I liked the story. Bit of a big thing at he end. That was very matter of fact and it fitted in well with the rest of the narrative I thought.
I let my sister read the first few paragraphs when I wrote them, to see if she had any idea of where it was going, she wondered if he was going to turn out to be gay. So hopefully even though most people will guess something dark is about to happen, they wont guess what until they are reading it.
The last two paragraphs were perfectly phrased. As I was reading I suspected some kind of darkness was coming, and the end just captured it in a minimal and chilling way.
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