Lover of music, words & books. Fiction writer & reader. Husband, Father & Samaritan. Budding musician. Friend to people & animals. Fan of inner & outer space.
Maybe the next one would be smart enough to stay alive.
She’d carry a piece of him just like she carried a piece of her five other husbands.
No, she was something more than that, something monstrous and as she looked at the thing hidden beneath the visage of Marcus’ pretty flower, she smiled.
Her skin peeled so easily now but once she’d screamed and sobbed at the pain. Maybe it meant that she’d accepted that this was what she was meant to be. Not the sweet, stupid wife that sat at home waiting for her husband to see her worth.
She knew it would travel the entirety of her body but she didn’t look, instead, she watched as invisible fingers took hold of the tiny line the blood had left behind.
Inside the box were five rings, arranged just so, around a little grey knife.
Her mascara stood out like zebra strips painted across her cheeks.
In the abattoir — great-grandad Owen — satHis garments were bloodied — including his hat.My meat hook — he was holding — to my reliefGrossly — he was using it — to pick his teeth.
Brother Geraint was chasing — sheep in the yardThey were moving fast — and he was breathing hard.Lamb chops with rosemary — was his hungry howlMy meat hook was absent — I gave a deep scowl.