A Shot

She knew that it was now or never. Her eyes seemed to come out. She was nearly covered in a chilling sweat. Breathing heavily in the gathering darkness, she opened up the front door, and let her husband in. The man heaved himself down on the battered sofa, all the while staring at his wife with his eyes - big, cruelly red eyes.

He was angry today. Very angry.

Maria felt it – the activity which she so feared would be done…but she hoped that it would be all over…over before she expected it.

She saw Aaron drag himself towards the kitchen meanwhile. He was muttering something – angrily. Maria knew that this was a danger sign.

(not the belt please not the leather)

Holding her anxiety, she crept into the kitchen, and began stirring the soup again. Having done that, she cut three slices of bread, and uncorked a new bottle of beer – his husband’s favourite thing.

(he drinks it and becomes an animal)

And this was the supper of the third-last house on Templeton Row: home to one of the rich farmers in the Row, Aaron Field and his wife, former medical representative Maria Field.

(things not always seem happy as they seem to be)

While pouring the beer, she felt that her heart was beating very much wildly. What if he didn’t do ‘that’ today? What if…

As she turned towards the dining table, a ‘clink’ sound suddenly startled her. Turning around, she saw it was nothing.

Just a syringe.

She went into the dining room, where her husband sat waiting, already half-asleep and muttering rubbish under his breath. Maria just closed her eyes, and silently served him his supper. The farmer took one look at his wife, and then touching her hand, said:

‘You look pretty.’

Maria didn’t pay heed to it. She just sat there, in the opposite chair.

(wait wait wait)

Aaron drank the soup up, all the while muttering and swearing slangs…she was used to it by now – after five years of their marriage.

(humans have a patience level and if broken…)

Giving a nauseous burp, Aaron picked up the glass of beer. Maria now sat upright. Another cold sweat broke out all over her.

(I don’t want to die)

Aaron took the first sip, and immediately his face winced up – as if someone had mixed a highly bitter substance into his drink.

Aaron’s face got red, then taking another sip, he howled,

‘MARIA!’

She slowly stood up and went over to him. Aaron turned his face towards her

(just like a devil)

and spilled some beer over her!

‘You, you, YOU! You think that I will feed on anything you give me? YOU SICK WOMAN! YOU THINK I AM STUPID? HUH? YOU SERVE ME ROTTEN STUFF, JUST LIKE YOUR ROTTEN SELF! Well, well…’

Aaron got up from his chair. He sensed that his body was suddenly a bit numb. But that didn’t matter. He was angry.

And Maria knew exactly

(blood on the leather)

what happened when

(dirty red blood on the leather strip)

her husband got angry.

Aaron again spoke, ‘Well, well…it seems…seems that I got to give ya a lesson: on how to treat your husband better, YOU MAGGOT! But don’t worry, don’t…I’ll not hurt you…I’ll never lay any hand on you…DID..I-I…EVER DO IT?’

He gave out a laugh. Maria wanted to shriek, wanted to escape from this dangerous man, but…

(the wolf ate up my daughter)

Aaron unbuckled his belt, all the while laughing. Then, with a loud roar, he swung the belt hard into her right thigh, which came down with a resounding crack.

'CR-R-A-C-CK!'

She rolled over, internally shrieking out in pain. Her face winced in terrible agony. Aaron took one more step forward, swung the belt to give a second beating…

But before he could do so, he felt himself struggling away from his prey – as if someone was pulling him. Maria also noticed it – and noticed what happened afterwards.

Aaron’s body wrinkled and crumpled up, and he started to frenziedly move about – as if someone was controlling him and moving him around randomly. Aaron was letting out screams – screams of agony, pain, and anger. His eyes became redder, and foam began to erupt from his mouth.

Maria had just stood up, with a faint smile around the corner of her mouth. When he saw her, Aaron lunged himself at her, and caught the sleeve of her long skirt!

‘Y-Y-YOU FILTHY LITTLE CREATURE! I-I-I W-WILL K-K-KILL YA! I W-WI – AHHH!’

Something brown in colour suddenly sailed high in the air and lashed him right across his face. Blood sputtered out mixed with foam. Another one, a third one, a fourth…

After a few chilling moments, Aaron slumped down to the floor. His body was bloody, his mouth had foam mixed with the red liquid, and his red eyes looked upwards into the increasing darkness. He gave out one last roar, throwing his hands like a retarded ballerina,

‘YOU’LL PAY FOR IT, YOU FILTHY UGLY LITTLE ROACH! YOU WILL BE SORRY! ILL GET YOU, I’LL…’

Then, he choked up, vomited some more foam, and that was it. Aaron Field lay there, dead on the floorboards of 22, Templeton Row.

Maria opened her eyes slowly, and peeped quietly into her husband’s face.

She smiled.

He was dead.

(you did it)

She sat herself down on a chair, and began to cry. Tears of joy came out…

***

The old house stood over there, silently in the gathering darkness. One year ago, a young couple named the Fields’ moved over here and called it as their residence. Seven months later, one morning, the residents were stunned to find police surrounding the entire house, and taking out the body of the husband, Aaron Field. He had apparently gone away due to a massive hemorrhage in his head - a natural cause of death, which was contributed by his heavy alcoholism. His wife, Maria Field, was sobbing loudly, all the while telling that she was devastated and did not see it coming…

Maria now lives somewhere else…maybe happily...

On the floorboards, the wind rustles about sometimes, and brings out some items which are practically minuscule in shape.

One of them was a syringe. It seemed to be used, for there was a brown stain lining its lower body. The stain belonged to a well-known medicine, but also a dangerous poison…

Strychnine.

Who knew that a shot of strychnine would call upon...

The murder of Aaron Field? 

Maybe one person knew…

Perhaps – Maria?

***

M.Macabre

05.11.2020

Dedicated to: Redi, R.Escreva