Scroll down to discover a short story for your reading pleasure.
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Enjoy one of my short stories.
Thinking about an anthology – do you think I should?
“So,” the voice sent chills down her spine. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her head high and her eyes sparking fire.
He took the knife out of its scabbard and gently caressed the length of it as he looked at her.
She kept still and wondered if she had read his character wrong. The knife blade looked lethal, and she didn’t know how he meant to use it.
“I ask you again,” he said, with a glint of menace in his eyes. “Where is he?”
She got up from the table and moved to the sink, turning on the tap and filling the kettle.
“Coffee?” she asked, her voice wavering a little as she turned.
“No!” he rasped. “I need to get on with this.” He walked up to her suddenly and angrily, grabbing the kettle from her shaking hands and placed it on the bench spilling the contents.
“I don’t like this any better than you do,” he gritted his teeth and sat her back down at the table.
“When he attacked you surely you wanted revenge?”
“Ye..es” Tears glimmered in her eyes and he looked away as if she had made him feel a glimmer of guilt. He came closer.
The knife was near her face, and she began to shake.
“Stop it,” he almost yelled. “This has got to be done. Tell me, where is he?”
She hung her head, the cold seeping into her bones. If only he had let her get some coffee. She wanted a cup badly, to warm her hands, take away the dread, and give her another focus.
“I left him out the back.” She whispered. “I’ve already hit him once – I think I killed him with the stick I was holding when he leapt at me. I’m too frightened to go and look.”
He put the knife down and moved towards her.
She shrank back a little, then she finally bent her head and cried.
After a while, the tears stopped. She straightened her back, and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“Let’s go together and see if he’s OK.”
“No,” he answered, “I’ll go. Stay here and make the cup of coffee. I’ll need one when it’s done.”
He strode out of the room, banging the screen door behind him.
She sighed and rose to refill the kettle.
He had left the knife on the bench, but the screen door opened immediately. He reached out and grabbed the knife. He looked at her, his lips thin, in a tense line.
“I’ll ask you once more. Do you know where he is?”
No words came. She just shook her head. The next sentence wrenched a sob from her.
“I’ll put him out of his misery when I find him.”
She took a deep breath. “Do it quickly! I can’t watch.”
“I know,” he grunted. “Do you think I find it any easier. But that damn rooster has got to go!”