Serial Saturday: [Horrror] I’m Watching You #9

Bit late getting this one out today, by about 2 hours! I’ve set my mind on turning one of my short stories into a comic, and I’m set on drawing it myself, only problem is that it’s a new skill to develop, so this morning I got caught up watching numerous YouTube videos on drawing and lost track of time!

Anyway, better late than never, here is the FINAL part of MIKE’s story. Last time, Mike had made it home, the worse for wear after downing several bottles of beer to settle his nerves. His loving wife, GLORIA is non too forgiving when he tells her he thinks he has an aneurysm.

You can read the first part HERE and the most recent part HERE. on to today’s final part…

“Not stroke, aneurysm.” His voice was monotone.

“Aneurysm my arse,” said Gloria. “If you want attention, take your hypochondria to the doctor’s.” She tapped a cigarette out of the packet she had removed from her pocket. She lit it and blew out a steady stream of smoke.

Mike blew out a long sigh.

“Perhaps if you got a proper job,” Mike looked about to interject when Gloria continued “one that brings you home at a normal time, and you got some better sleep…” She let the sentence trail off.

Mike closed his eyes. He could feel the beginnings of a headache. Perhaps it wasa brain aneurysm. He wasn’t sure if having one would give him headaches, but it might.

“You’re never here. I do everything in this house. Everything.” She jabbed her finger down on her thigh to punctuate the point.

Mike felt he should point out the flaw in her argument, but kept quiet. The pain was right behind his left eye now, and he screwed his eyes shut against the pain.

“Go on, disagree,” said Gloria. “What do you do? Nothing. Do you cook? No. Clean? No.” Each point was preceded by a drag on her cigarette and a plume of smoke.

Mike coughed as she blew the smoke in his direction. He kept his eyes screwed tightly shut as she spoke.

“What use are you? You can’t even take care of things in bed!” She blew more smoke at him.

Mike allowed his eyes to open and look at the woman he thought he loved. The smoke-haze cleared revealing her face, cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth, yellow eye in the middle of her forehead. He sat back in his seat and watched it, blinking in the smoke from Gloria’s cigarette. He let his mouth fall open, gossamer strands of saliva connecting his lips.

“And there’s no point looking at me like that.” Gloria shifted he position, turning away for a moment. When she turned back to face Mike, the eye was still there, staring at him, questioning him.

“What do you want?” he said quietly.

“What?” Gloria flapped a hand at him. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t understand,” he said, this time with more conviction. “What do you want from me?” Although he was speaking to the eye, Gloria answered his question.

“I want you to be a man. That’s all. A man. Because as it stands, I think you may be failing that test.” She took another drag on the cigarette and blew the smoke straight up, obscuring the eye momentarily. When it cleared, the eye continued staring. Not a man, was what Mike imagined it saying. You’re failing.

“I’m not failing, I’m not failing,” he repeated. Yes, yes you are. “No I’m not.” He clutched the sides of his head. Can’t even throw one into his wife. “I could, given the chance!” Now he was shouting, and he stood up.

“What are you talking about?” Gloria looked confused, but it didn’t throw her off track. “You really havelost it, haven’t you? You stay and talk to yourself. I’m going to bed.” She stood up and took a last drag on her cigarette before stubbing it out. She flicked the stub at Mike as she walked past him. “You can sleep down here.”

Mike was focused on the eye, and as Gloria brushed past him, he pushed her to the ground and knelt over her.

“What are you doing?” She tried to wriggle free, but Mike remained on top of her. “Is this an attempt to man-up? Because if it is, save us both the disappointment and keep it in your trousers.” 

The eye blinked. You’re a disappointment.

“No, I’m not!” screamed Mike. Reaching out, he picked up the closest thing to hand: a vase. Without removing the flowers, he brought it down hard on his wife’s forehead. It smashed, the flowers scattering around her head. Gloria screamed, but Mike kept pounding until there was nothing left of the vase, save for several jagged shards of porcelain. Gloria had already stopped moving when he drove one of the shards into her head. He pummeled her motionless form for several more minutes until, exhausted, he stopped. His wife’s face was bloody, almost unrecognisable. Using his shirtsleeve, he wiped the blood from her forehead and smiled when he could not find the eye.

A knock on the door brought his head up, and he climbed off his wife. It was walking to the door that he felt his erection. He could not remember the last time it was that big, or that hard. He knew it wasn’t him that was the problem, never was. 

Mike heard the policeman at the door before he saw him.

“Sir, we’ve had reports of screaming. A neighbor was concerned. Please open the door.” He continued to knock until mike turned the key and opened the door. The officer stopped talking, momentarily taken aback at the sight that greeted him.

“It’s okay officer, I’ve taken care of it.” Mike stood in the doorway, blood dripping from his fingertips, his shirt plastered with his wife’s blood. “You can look if you need to check.” He stepped aside and motioned for the officer to come in.

Well that wraps it up for Mike’s story. I got a great deal of enjoyment from writing this story. I think some of my short stories could become much longer works, but i feel like this one is exactly right as it is.

I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it!

One thought on “Serial Saturday: [Horrror] I’m Watching You #9

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