Day 111 – Rock Star – YouChallenge Short Story

“So what, you think he’s an alien just because he’s too good?” She says with a laugh as she takes a long drag on the joint.

“Either that or he’s like some undercover rock star looking to grow his popularity by posing as a busker for some documentary that he’s putting together,” she says as she giggles to herself.

“Mary, you’re totally wasted,” she says as she takes another drag of the joint and passes it to Mary.

“This bush shit is hardly doing anything, I’m totally straight,” Mary says as she takes a drag.

“Bush shit? This is like Jamaican Red, I didn’t even need to take a toke to start feeling it, you’re wasted honey,” she says as she falls back into the couch and begins laughing hysterically, Mary slaps her on the leg and giggles.

“You’re the one who’s wasted, I’m serious, he just showed up with this awesome light show and started pulling people from everywhere, it’s just way too weird for him to be that good and I’d never noticed him before.”

“You’re in love with him that’s what it is,” she says, Mary slaps her on the leg again, harder this time.

“Am not, he’s just too good to be just a busker, if you don’t believe me lets go to the mall and I’ll show you!”

“You’re in love, you’re in love!”

“Cut it out Megan, and get your skanky arse off my couch and let’s go!”

“You’re fucking serious?”

“Too right I am,” she says as he gets to her feet and falls back on the couch.

“You’re so wasted bitch!” Megan says with a giggle, Mary forces herself up again and grabs Megan by the arm and pulls her up, and they stumble out the door, arriving some time later at the mall, seeing the large group of people instantly, all bobbing their heads and tapping their feet to the strange, ambient sounds coming from within the crowd, Mary looks at Megan with a I told you so look and the girls push their way towards the front.

“See,” Mary says as he points to the strange looking little man as he drives his fingers precisely down onto the keyboard, lights flicker from a rig behind him and he spins around, as the song comes to its crescendo, the crowd applaud hysterically, with cheers for more, money litters the inner circle that the people surround and he holds up one hand.

“You are all too kind, but alas, this is my final song for the day, it’s something I wrote the other morning, I call it Rondo Alla Turca, please enjoy,” he says as he starts to play. Mary turns to Megan and laughs.

“See this guy is absolutely twisted,” Mary says.

“I think he’s really talented, don’t you feel it? He just wrote this and it sounds beautiful, I feel it, I really do, don’t you?”

“Sure, I also used to love it when my parents played it too me when I was a baby.”

“What, are you still high? Didn’t you just hear him?”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean, this is one of Mozart’s most famous pieces. Actually,” she says as she smiles, “all of the stuff he’s been playing is Mozart’s.”

“You don’t think this guy actually is, Mozart?” Megan says.

They both look at the strange, little man and then at each other.



The challenge was, ‘a strange busker in the mall.’


Day 110 – The Roundhead Prelude 2 – Dare To Share

**This takes place after chapter one of The Roundhead and before chapter two**


She rips the headphones from her ears, throwing them across the room, inadvertently pushing her laptop away, and sending it crashing to the floor. Frantically, she feels around for the switch to her lamp, her heart beating furiously in her chest, she gasps for air as the light flickers on, placing a shaking hand on her forehead, and the other on her chest, she sits like this for a minute or more before finally, letting out a nervous giggle.

“Holy fuck,” she gasps as she reaches down and picks up the laptop and readjusts the screen, letting out a sigh of relief as she sees it’s undamaged, her eyes scan the screen, and she bites down, on her bottom lip as she slowly moves the mouse cursor over the star, and presses it.

“Holy fuck,” she repeats again moving the cursor over the share button, and allows it to hover there for a few moment, the, tightly closing her eyes as she presses it, and lets out another giggle. The lamp beside her flickers violently, she turns her head to the side, and stares at the globe, watching blue forks of electricity dancing around inside it, then, there’s a popping sound, and the light bursts, the glass casing of the light shatters into tiny fragments. Quickly, she turns her face away in an attempt to shield it from the glass and stares into two soulless, black, dead eyes, belonging to a pale, motionless boy, no older than her, for mere seconds, they stare at each other in silence, and then, his mouth slowly opens, as he begins to speak.

“We read the words that hides its curse, bridging the gap for it to transverse, as we give it a body, we give it a form, we taste it, we smell it, we bring on the storm, within the words we call it by name, we share it, we pass it, then our soul it does claim, so say it with me and join us in sin, say its name for it will begin, Roundhead, Roundhead, Roundhead!” The boy says, he voice distorted, as though he was underwater, pitched like fingernails along a chalkboard, and then, he is gone, to be replaced by the smell of stench and decay, of death, she sits there, frozen in fear, unable to scream, unable to move, as it appears out of the darkness and moves towards her, his large, clawed hands twist, and reach for her, as it lets out a low, bloodcurdling growl.




All artwork by Yazgar, check his stuff out when you can!

Day 110 – The Room – Short Story

“The key is hidden, under a stone, in the back yard, she said, which fucking stone?” Grace says as she stands in front of a pile of rocks, she looks over to Unus and he shrugs his shoulders, his suit cover in dirt, for the last two hours they’ve been sifting through the rocks that sit outside her grandmothers old home, looking for the key she apparently kept hidden to a door in the basement, two hours, and they seem no closer to finding it than they had when they started.

“Why don’t we just break the fucking door down?” he says as he turns to her.

“Because it’s not the way it’s supposed to work, her will clearly stated we have to find the key, if we find the key then we get what’s on the other side of the door, it just won’t work otherwise, if we break it open it won’t be….”

“It won’t be what?”

“Just help me find the key, please?”

“What if there’s nothing there, you said no one’s lived here for years, not since she moved into the retirement village, this is just jacked to the hilt Gracie!” He says as he throws several more rocks to the ground. As one of rocks crash into the others it splits open and they both catch the faint glimmer of something within, and look at each other in excitement as they dive into the rock pile and pull out a key, she holds it high and screams with excitement and they rush into the house, sitting in the dining room are her parents and the solicitor and she bangs the key down onto the table.

“Well,” he says as he picks the key up and studies it. “Congratulations, whatever’s in that room is now yours,” he says as he passes the key back. Grace smiles with nervousness and excitement as she runs down the stairwell into the basement and up to the door, for a few nervous moments she stands there, trying to hold back the excitement.

“Well, don’t just stand there dumb struck, try it,” Unus says, she looks at him and giggles as she slips the key into the lock and it turns. She places a shaking hand on the doorknob and looks back at Unus again and takes a deep breath.

“When we were kids ouma always told us about a place, a magical word, where she had hundreds of adventures when she was a young woman. Every time we would stay over she would tell a different story and as we got older she’d always say that one day, when she was gone it would be my turn, and all I had to do was open the door,” she says as she opens the door, and looks into the empty room, she looks at Unus and the excitement seems drained from her eyes.

“Did you really believe this would be a doorway to another world?” He asks as he follows her into the room.

“I don’t know, yes, no, as we got older I just thought it was stories she told to entertain us because she never owned a TV. But when they read out the will I thought maybe, somehow all the stories she told were tr….” She stops mid-sentence as a bright white light flashes wildly around the room, and she smiles as a tear runs down her cheek, and then she and Unus were gone, where? Well that’s a story for another day.



Day 109 – Pretty Things – Short Story

The knife scrapes along the side of the tin shed, like fingernails along a blackboard. He slowly makes his way around the other side where she sits, crouched on the ground, blood covers most of her lower half, where he’s already attacked her.

“Please!” she screams. “Please! Just let me go!”

He laughs as he slowly makes his way towards her, knife in hand. “I can’t do that pretty lady, you see, you and your friends, you..” he stops mid-sentence as a man dives from behind the shed at him, he effortlessly thrust the knife up and catches him in the air with the blade, piercing his stomach, and they both go crashing to the ground, she screams in terror as he throws him to the ground and pulls the knife free with an upwards motion, slicing his abdomen open as if it was a garbage bag splitting, his insides tumble out and he frantically tries to stuff them back in, struggling to grab a breath, he looks over to her as she continues to scream and he slowly, shakenly stretches out his arm towards her before he collapses to the ground.

“He did better than I thought he would, almost got it all back in,” he says with a laugh as he turns back to her. “So, where’s the other two, they hiding in the shadows as well, waiting to strike?”

“Fuck you, you crazy fucking piece of shit, fuck yo…..” he drives the blades of the knife into the centre of her head and twists it, she sits there with a blank lifeless look on her face as blood quickly begins to pour out of the wound.

“oh shut the fuck up!” he hisses as he pulls the knife free and she falls to the ground, lifeless, he grabs a handful of her hair and begins dragging her back around the other side of the shed, turning to the body of the man, he nods his head, “I’ll be back for you soon son, just don’t go any where!” he says as he begins laughing hysterically. As he comes around the corner he is struck in the head with a log of wood and goes crashing to the ground, disoriented and confused he feels the log of wood crash into his head again, and then darkness.

When he opens his eyes he finds himself bound to a chair and the two remaining kids stand before him.

“Well if it isn’t Tweedledum and Tweedledee, what, you college kids going to give me what I deserve now are you?”

“Fucking too right we are,” the man says as he lays two solid punches into the side of his face, he laughs as he spits out a wad of blood.

“That’s a mighty fine left you’ve got there, bet mine is better, if you let me up I’ll show you what you’re doing wrong,” he says with a laugh.

“Fuck you, you won’t be laughing for long you crazy old fucking nut case!” he yells as she drivers another two punches into him, but he still continues to laugh.

“What’s so fucking funny old man, were going to slice you open just like you did our friends, so I wouldn’t be laughing if I was you.”

“I can’t help it son, you keep talking in the third person like there’s more than just you here,” he says with an evil glint in his eye, the boy spins around and find himself standing alone.

“Cherry? Cherry? Where the fuck are you?” he yells out.

“Cherry? What sort of fucking new age, hippy fucking weirdo name is Cherry?” he asks.

“You fucking prick, what have you done to her!” he yells he grabs him and digs the knife into his throat. “Where is she, or so help me god I’ll slice your fucking throat open!”

He laughs, “I don’t think you need to be worrying about me boy, I think you need to be worried about the wife!”

“What the fuck,” he says as he turns around as she launches out of the shadows and thrust a blade up through his jaw and tears into his brain, he jerks and twitches around for a few moments as she twists the knife , then rips back out and he drops like a sack of potatoes to the floor, she runs a hand across the man’s face and smiles.

“Are you all right my love?” she asks as she cuts the binds.

“All the better for seeing you my love,” he says as they kiss, he looks over to the disembowel body of the young girl and chuckles, “Fucking college kids.”



Day 108 – Service – YouChallenge Short Story

“I don’t care, it’s mine, so you can just go fly a kite or something!” He yells as he runs from the room, his hands tightly holding the purse to his chest, he reaches the balcony and lets out a sigh of exhaustion and the tears begin to pour down his face, he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Is it really this hard?” the man asks.

“Of course it is, you haven’t been here, I’m the one who has been here every day for the last seven years, I have done everything for them while you sat in your mansion in Beverly Hills not even bothering to come here and visit them once in the last six years. All the while, I bathed, cleaned, dressed and whatever else they need me to do for them, I was more of a member of their family than you, so yes, it’s going to be hard, if you won’t give me what is mine, it will be very hard.”

“I struggle to see where you think we owe you something, you were an employee, an employee I’ve paid very well over the years to look after my parents, you can’t turn around and cry wolf, you can’t get anything, you’re only an employee.”

“That’s where your wrong, I was more than just someone who worked for you to them, they promised me things, they said what they would leave to me, I know they would’ve kept their word, but if you want to be a jerk about it I’ll prove it, and then, then you will owe me more than an apology.”

He squeezes his shoulder and lets out a laugh, “Carmichael, you’re a dreamer, they never promised you anything, and even if they did, there’s nothing anywhere to prove any of this, so, if you try to contest the will, I’ll make sure you are broken, and homeless, so give up now, while you have something to enjoy. I don’t care about the purse, you can take it, but that’s all you’ll ever get from me and my parents.”

Carmichael turns around and throws the bag in his face, “It’s not about the bag, it’s about a promise, they made me a promise, I did things for them, both of them, things that I was never paid for, and I will have what they promised, don’t try and make me look petty Joshua, because I will take everything.”

Joshua grabs Carmichael by the collar and pulls him in close, his bottom lip twists and his brow furrows. “Listen you little piece of crap, you’ll get nothing, do you hear me? Nothing.” And shoves him backwards, for a moment he realises what he had done before it happened, but all too late did he actually react, before he knew it Carmichael is over the balcony and falling helplessly towards the ground, and hits it with a thud, Joshua’s heart skips a beat as the small group of reports look up towards him, then someone screams his name, and another screams “He’s dead,” and that’s when Joshua realises he should’ve just given Carmichael the extra six grand his parents had promised him.



The challenge was, ‘a bitter carer’

Day 108 – The Bag – Short Story

He grabs the bag and rushes out the door, diving into the car and slamming the door behind him, “Fucking go, NOW!” he yells as three men run out of the building behind him and the car screeches off, fish tailing its way out onto the street, gun fire erupts behind them and bullets rip into the side of the car.

“What the fuck is going on Wheat?”

“What’s it look like, we’re getting the fuck out of here and we’re not going to stop until we’re all the way across the other side of the planet, where they can’t get to us.”

“What the fuck, Tyron and his crew won’t let you get that far, what the fuck did you do?”

“I did it, I had to, I couldn’t let them do it, not while I could stop them.”

“Shit, are you crazy, you know Tyron will want it back?”

“Tyron’s going to do nothing, I put a bullet in his head, he’s history!” The car comes to a screeching stop and he leans over to the back seat.

“You fucking killed Tyron?”

“Dead centre, fucker never saw it coming, was too busy enjoying get his dick sucked to expect a bullet in his skull.”

“You’re fucking crazy, ain’t no one going to let you get away now they’re going to be all over us, fuck, Wheat, I don’t know if I want to be part of this, it’s just not what I signed on for. I only said I’d pick you up, I never said I was going to be party to you killing Tyron, man this ain’t good, his brother is going to be mighty pissed, mighty pissed and he’s someone you don’t want to piss off.”

“He’s dead too, second bullet went in his head, and the third went into the hooker they were double teaming.”

“You fucking killed King Tut? Are you mother fucking insane?”

“Dude, I had to, I had to get it from them, it was all I could think about man, please, keep driving, I’ll cut you in, I swear.”

He sits there for a few moments, as the sweat runs down his brow, “Show me this fucking thing that’s got you all hot and bothered?” he says, Wheat opens the bag up and shows him the contents, he looks at it and his mouth drops.


“I know, right, see why they couldn’t have it!”

“Give it to me!” he says as he points a gun over the top of the seat.

“What the fuck Tilly? It’s me, we’re like brothers!”

“Give me the motherfucking bag Wheat or I’ll take it from your dead hands!”

“I ain’t giving you the motherfucking bag, it’s mine, dude, I’ll share whatever…” Tilly fires three shots into Wheats head and leaps out of the car and tosses his body to the ground, grabbing the bag from the back seat as Tyron’s crew come to a screeching halt behind him. They leap out with guns drawn and Tilly raises his hands in the air, still clutching to the bag.

Morse, Tyron’s right hand man storms over to where Tilly stands and grabs the bag, but Tilly refuses to let it go.

“Let go of the bag fat man, and we’ll be square,” he growls as he yanks at the bag, but Tilly still refuses to let it go.

“I-I-I-I can’t.”

“What, you a stuttering motherfucker? Let go of the bag!” he yells as he places a gun at his head, sweat pours down Tilly’s brow as he looks at the bag and then at Morse, and a tear runs down his check as Morse fires the gun then storms back to the awaiting black SUV’s with the bag, firmly in his grasp.

“Let’s go,” he says as he climbs into the back, quickly followed by several other men.

“What’s in the bag?” one of them asks, Morse quickly pulls his gun out and fires a shot dead centre into his head.

“None of your god damn business,” he yells, and looks around the cabin. “Any other motherfuckers want to know shit that’s got nothing to do with them?” everyone remains silent. “Good, now let’s get the fuck out of here!”



The Book

One of the first people I met when I started this blog, was a man by the name of Dermott Hayes. His blog Postcard From A Pigeon is a self styled magazine of ideas, discussions, stories and self discovery, basically, you don’t know from each day to the next how he will entertain you, you just know, he will. One of his latest posts called Sylvia’s Letter was a fascinating story that was taken from a card he found in a secondhand book he had purchased at a charity event. His story and that of another blogger Fijay of Blog On! opened up the idea of multiple realities, and the ideas a simple card, lost inside a book could give to someone. This, is my version of events, how the book wound up in Dermott’s hands.

He slams his fist into the door four times, four times, his mind races, how late is he? Is there a chance he might still be able to save it? He bangs on the door again, this time the lights upstairs come on and he can hear movement, moments later the door opens and she rubs her eyes.


“The book, what did you do with it?”

“What? What are you talking about? Do you realise what time it is?”

“I don’t give a god damn about the time Merrin, the book, what did you do with the book?”

“What book?”

“The book, the Shel Silverstein collection! It was on the bookcase and now it’s gone along with the stuff I sat aside for you, where is it?”


“For fuck sake Merrin, the box? The box?”

“I took it to Jerry like I said, what’s so import….”

“Who the fuck is Jerry?”

“What the hell has gotten into you? What’s so important about this book?”

“I just need the fucking book, who’s Jerry?”

“He runs Bargin Secondhand Books, down in Sixes Lane, I told you all about it last week remember? The money he makes from the sale of the books help fund the local homeless shelter. Look I know you’ve been going th…”

“Fuck!” He yells as he rushes away.

“What the fuck is going? What’s so important about that book?” She yells out, as he disappears into the darkness.

“It was from Larissa,” he yells, the panic and stress burns through his words, as  her heart skips a beat, and she covers her gasp with her hand, his panic, his worry, it all now made sense, three weeks ago, she buried her sister, three weeks ago he said goodby to his true love, Larissa.

So, there’s my take on it all, maybe, soon Dermott will receive a panicked knock on his door, as Scott finally finds his way back to the book, that houses that special memory, the day his one true love made him realise she was the one, do you have a theory?

 Post it, and become part of this.

Day 107 – Bubbles – Short Story

“I could’ve hidden longer, I could’ve ran,” he says as he looks into the glass, and watches as the bubbles float to the surface.

“Then why didn’t you run, why make it easy for me?”

“Because I knew even if I did you’d find me, eventually, somehow, someday, so I just decided not to prolong it, I didn’t want to always be looking over my shoulder expecting you to one day be standing there, ready to pounce.”

She laughs, “You really think you’re that important to me that I would waste my time hunting you down?”

“Well we’re sitting here aren’t we?”

“Please Devon, I may be psychotic but I’m not crazy, if you had of run, I wouldn’t have cared, I’m not some sadistic crazed killer,” she laughs again. “It sounds so funny when I actually say those words out loud, I mean, I am, I know, but I’m not, really, I’m something else. Certainly not a Jason Voorhees or Michael Myers type killer, I’m just your average, ordinary, real, flesh and blood, not made up killer,” she says as she straddles a chair in front of him and picks up the glass off the table and takes a mouthful, then offers the glass to him. “Thirsty?”

“Do you really care?”

She slaps him across the face, “I offered you some compassion, not all my victims get this sort of treatment, so, again, thirsty?”

“No!” he yells, she slaps him again.

“Don’t be such a spoilt brat Devon, I want this to be friendly, I’d hate for it to end on bad terms, not with you, I mean we were almost family for a little while.”

He laughs, “Fuck you, you killed my friends and family, you tried to kill me and when you couldn’t do that you tried to frame me for everything, so I think we’re way past friendly!”

“I guess you’re right, I mean, I did all those things, but you did forget the part where I fucked your dad though, of course we shouldn’t really bring him into it, I mean, no one should speak ill of the dead, and I could tell you a few things about your dad that would make you shudder with disgust, I mean, he was really into some weird shit. But again, no ill speaking of the dead,” she says as she looks over to his father’s lifeless body,. “Especially when they’re in the room.”

“Why don’t you just get this over with, instead of trying to make yourself feel good about what you’re going to do, just DO IT!”

Once again she slaps him across the face, “I will do what I like when I like, and if I want to sit here and have a conversation with you before I split your skull with the same axe I buried into your fathers skull, then I will god damn do that!”

“DO IT, DO IT!” he yells through clenched teeth, saliva dripping from his mouth, spit flying through the air and tears running down his face, she moves back in shock and surprise and begins to laugh hysterically.

“And you call me crazy, you’re the one who’s in need of a shrink,” She says as she gets up from the chair and drags the axe along the floor, carving a track behind it in the concrete. She hoist it up onto her shoulder and frowns as she looks down at him.

“I’ll see you in hell,” he hisses.

“Honey, make sure you keep my spot warm,” she says as she brings the axe down.



Day 107 Daily Prompt – Witness – Short Story

I sit here, staring at the screen, lost in the emptiness of the blank page, frozen, like a lifeless, wordless, thoughtless mannequin. I feel the saliva slowly run down my lip and drop softly onto my chin and start its journey downward. How long have I been sitting here? How long have I contemplated writing words on the screen, words, any words, I know writers block sucks, but my words mean so much more than you can understand to the eagerly awaiting audience who sit waiting at my door, for something new to read. Has it been days? The knock on my door makes me jump, and I wearily look towards it.

“Go away, come back tomorrow, I’ll have words for you then,” I yell, and the banging stops. Slowly I turn back to the screen, why do they hound me? Why do they never leave me alone? I stare at the empty, blank screen again, and the banging begins anew, harder, and quicker this time. I jump up from my seat, I can feel my blood boil and I tear open the door, she stands there looking, so, god damn ravishing and walks into the room as if it were her own.

“My god, it’s worse than he thought,” she says, running a hand along a bench top and studying the fine layer of dust now on her fingers.

“Excuse me, but who in the hell are you?”

“I’m your muse,” she says proudly.

“My what?” I know what a muse is, don’t misunderstand my question, I’m not stupid, I just don’t understand what she means.

“Your muse, your inspiration, it seems you’ve lost your gift, so I’ve been sent to help you find it again.”

“I don’t understand, who sent you here and why?”

She ignores my question and looks at my computer screen, I can see the disappoint in her face due to how void of words the screen is, I rush in front of her and try to shepherd her away, even though I know it is too late for that. She gently shoves me into my chair and leans in, digging a finger into my chest.

“So what’s wrong? Where are your words?”

“I-I-I-I don’t know!” I yell, I feel something snap inside, it’s like a door has finally been opened that’s be locked for too long, I feel it burst like a dam, and eventually, out through my eyes, in other words, I cried my fucking eyes out. She slaps me across the face, not once, but twice, and, surprisingly, it helps me gain control of my emotions, not totally, but I wasn’t screaming like a one year old who needed their nappy changed anymore.

“Don’t embarrass yourself any more than you have Witness, I will help ease your ways, help the words return, give you release,” she says as she kneels down in front of me, and her hands slowly make their way towards my groin. I swallow a mouthful of air, it tears at my throat, as it makes its way down, she just smiles, unzipping my fly.

“Wait, please,” I hear myself say, placing a hand on hers as she grips me.

“You are the witness, you are the one who witnesses all things, here, there, elsewhere. Without your words, without your stories, this world stands still, let my mouth be your savior, let you write about this, and let the world continue.”

I sit here, staring at this beautiful woman, and I honestly can’t for the life of me remember why I stopped her in the first place.



This is for today’s Daily Prompt

Day 106 – Zig Zag – Short Story

“Sometimes it’s best to just leave things alone Nicole, you won’t like what you find out,” her mother says as she slams her mug of coffee on the bench, a crack rips through the cup like a bolt of lightning rips into the ground and it shatters into pieces, coffee explodes out of the cup and across the bench and splashes over both of them. “Look what you made me do!” She yells as she throws her hands up in the air.

“I didn’t do anything, I just asked why dad left so early this morning is all, geeze mum anyone would think your trying to hide something?”

“It’s just been a long morning, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to snap honey,” she says as she grabs a towel from the rack and starts soaking up the coffee. “Your father said that work called and he needed to go in early to let someone in, painters, or something like that, as I said he was very choppy on the details, anyway, you need to get going or you’ll be late for school.”

“Are you sure it was just work, nothing happened?”

“No honey, everything is good, get your stuff and get out the door before you miss the bus,” she says with a smile. Nicole leans over and kisses her mum on the cheek, “You better get a clean shirt on as well,” her mother says, she looks at her shirt and laughs.

“Nah, I’ve got art first up, so it’s only going to get dirtier anyway, love you,” she says as she heads out the door, she stands there for a few moments, staring at the coffee as it soaks into the towel and it’s a phone call that snaps her back to reality.


“Hello Jackie, is Bill there?”

“No, he left to take Nicole to school, why, is there a problem?”

“Yeah, we were supposed to meet up twenty minutes ago and go over some plans for the new store, I guess he forgot, I’ll just meet him at the office when he gets there.”

“If he calls I’ll let him know, he’s a little distracted with everything going on with his mum so I’d say it must have slipped his mind.”

“What’s going on with Patty?”

“Oh, hasn’t Bill told you?”

“Told me what?”

“It’s not really my place, so please don’t tell him you know, but she’s been diagnosed with stage four lymphoma.”

“Oh shit, I didn’t know, fuck, I won’t say a thing, damn, I-I-I’m so sorry, how’s she doing?”

“She’s trying to stay strong, like we all are, but if I hear from Bill, I’ll let him know you called,” she says as she hangs up the phone and stares once again at the coffee. She wipes her sweaty hands down the side of her dress as she slowly walks around the house in a daze, eventually finding herself back in the master bedroom, where she gently sits on the bed and begins to cry into her hands, slowly she pulls her face from her hands and looks across to the other side of the bedroom, where his cold, dead body sits, his dead eyes stare forward, his mouth hanging open, his blue tongue hangs open, and a knife sits firmly planted in his chest.