Occasionally, I delve into a bit of darkness, leaving the romance far behind. This one includes the prompt ‘something wicked this way comes’ from Shakespeare’s Macbeth. I haven’t written flash fiction for ages but couldn’t miss this one and had some inky fun! Hosted by Ink After Dark. Thank you for reading. xxx
Gerard screwed up the contract, throwing it across the table.”I don’t care what it says. I’m not paying.” He shouted out to thin air but it made him feel better. In a few hours he’d be gone and no one would find him. A new life. Money in the bank. And with the blessing of his wife’s family. That was important to him. At first, he was under suspicion for the disappearance of Shelley, his wife, but when her battered body was unearthed, it gave Gerard his life back. And the guts to ignore the contract. Yes, he paid for Shelley’s murder, hired faceless men to do the deed. She was a cheating bitch after all. But the brutality Shelley was subjected to made him vomit violently, purging him of any guilt he may have felt. He didn’t want that for her. He just wanted her gone. Not buried alive because the thugs thought they’d done their job.
He ignored the contract. Ignored the finer print, written in red. Ignored words even when they were read to him before he signed: Something wicked this way comes. He didn’t care what it meant. Didn’t care to ask. He didn’t notice the words in red bleed into the paper after he signed, entwining his name.
He sat in front of the TV, killing time, trying to fight sleep but it caught up with him. A restless sleep. Gerard tossed and turned, unable to wake. Beads of sweat lined his forehead as his breathing laboured. Words rasped in his head, through his bones, his veins. Something wicked this way comes. Again and again, taunting him. He stiffened as stabbing pains riddled his body. A silent scream burst from him. Gasping for air, he clawed his face, writhing for precious air. The words were all he could hear, every syllable was a vice crushing his lungs like playdough in a child’s hands.
Knocking at the door of death, Gerard suddenly awoke. Drenched in sweat, he gulped down large breaths of air before standing. Unsteady on his feet, he managed to reach the kitchen where carved in blood on the walls were the words that had just torchured him. Then as he stared, clutching his chest, a word appeared, dripping down the wall. NOW. Something wicked this way comes. NOW. As he read, the words echoed around the room. His throat tightened. His eyes bulged. Falling to his knees, Gerard heard a laugh, a light, girlie laugh.
His suffering seemed to go on. How long did it take to suffocate someone? How long would it be before he watched his last breath float into the ether? Images of Shelley in the dirt flashed across his mind as she clawed until her nails ripped from their bed, as her mouth filled with dirt.
“Hello, dear husband.”
“Where am I?” Gerard looked around him. Nothing but Shelley standing in darkness.
“Even death can’t part us, sweetie.” She grinned. “With my last breath I begged for your suffering. I wanted you to know what you did to me. You obviously didn’t stick to your contract and I’m your punishment.”
“I have the money! I’ll pay! I’ll pay!” Gerard screamed until his throat bled. He choked as dirt spat from his mouth.
“You certainly will, sweetie, you certainly will.”
Back in his kitchen, Gerard sat motionless as he watched his soul choke on dirt in an endless cycle with Shelley’s pretty little laugh ringing in his ears.