What should I cook today?, I think as I scroll through recipes on Pinterest. Kevin, my fiancé, loves food. I, on the other hand, love cooking and am a pretty awesome cook. Kev’s words, not mine.
Lemon Chicken Romano. That looks delicious.
“Danny, when can I expect the reports?”
“Yum, I mean, umm.. tomorrow afternoon. I only need to…”
“Please see that they’re on my table no later than 1 PM,” my boss, Letty, snaps before I can complete myself and walks out, slamming the door behind her.
I feel my face go red with anger. I’ve been taking this crap for so long now. I.. I really need to… save money for the wedding, I cut myself short.
As if on cue, my phone lights up to display a message from Kev: “Honey, please tell me you aren’t working late today. I would love to see your face NOW. Oh, and I’m cooking tonight.”
I respond: “Leaving the office 5PM sharp. Only for you <3”
Where IS Letty? I wonder. I hadn’t seen her since she went out to lunch and she hadn’t even responded to any of my emails. Not that I want to see her face. Besides, it is 5 PM.
I immediately start packing up with a big grin on my face.
That report can wait till tomorrow. I’ve been working late every day for the past week anyway.
I grab my bag and walk out of the building to see Kev leaning against his car in the parking lot, smiling at me.
Kev and I have been engaged for exactly one year and three months now and are to get married in a month. The thought of spending the rest of my life with him makes me forget every silly worry of mine.
I run to hug him.
“What’s with the surprise? And you’re cooking tonight? You never cook! Not that I’m complaining.”
“Slow down, Danny. It’s been ages since I did anything romantic for you.”
“But that dinner you took me to on Friday night.. That was romantic.”
“It wasn’t romantic enough.”
“I love you,” I smile and squeeze his arm.
“Are you reading that same book again?” Kev asks over the kitchen counter as he slices some vegetables.
“It’s the story, not the book. You know I could read The Fall of the House of Usher a hundred times every day and not tire of it,” I respond.
“Kev? Honey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just cut my finger.”
Jumping off the couch, I run to the kitchen counter to examine his cut finger. I stop halfway and gasp loudly on seeing the small pool of blood on the kitchen floor. How could one finger cause so much blood?
I dash into the guest toilet and pull out the first aid kit from the medicine cabinet, at the same time yelling at Kevin to hold his hand still. As I leap back to where he stands, he looks as though he’s chopping something, with a pained expression on his face.
“Why are you still…..” I shout.
Kevin had chopped the top of his three fingers and was halfway on to the fourth.
“Stop it! What are you doing?” I continue to yell as I yank the bloody knife off his full-fingered hand.
“I’m sorry, Danny. I’m sorry.”
“Stop it, you’re scaring me. Is this a joke?”
“I killed her. I strangled her with my bare hands.”
“Who? Who are you talking about? You’re scaring me. You need to stop.”
“I killed Letty,” Kevin replies; his handsome face drenched in sweat.
“You did what?”
“We ran into each other after lunch and I offered her a lift back to the office. As soon as she got into the car, I strangled her. I killed Letty,” he explains, now smiling and crying at the same time.
“I did it for you,” he continues as he pulls out a butcher knife from the nearest kitchen drawer.
“Okay, you need to calm down,” I try to reason with him. “Please put the knife down,” I can feel my head ready to explode.
“I only did it to make you happy. I’m very sorry,” he says as he raises the butcher knife and slices half his left arm off.
I feel my knees giving way.
The knife clatters to the ground and a scream pierces the night.
This is my second attempt at the Speakeasy. Writing fiction, especially horror fiction, isn’t exactly my forte. But I decided to give it a try anyway.
You can find the whole challenge here.
Happy ‘Halloween-week Eve’, everyone!