Him

A Chapter by Natasha

Thinking to myself, I think I found my soulmate. The love of my life, my happiness. I smile and turn over in the bed and just look at him for a moment before he wakes up, like I do every morning. I give him a single kiss on the back of his neck and ease my way out of bed as quietly as I can. I was still facing him as I tried to slide out of bed, just to make sure I didn’t wake him. I go to place my hand on the wooden nightstand next to my bed for support, but my hand landed on the little remote for the T.V. and slipped off the table. *SMACK* The remote hits the ground hard. “Oh!” I cover my mouth and my eyes widen. My head snaps towards him in bed, anticipating him grunting and waking up to ask what the hell I broke this time.

No grunts, though. No turning around or asking me questions. Nothing at all came from his side of the bed. He must be in a deep sleep not to hear something like that. Usually he is a light sleeper. Oh well. I pick the remote up, set it back on the table, and tiptoe out of the room, shutting the door behind me. Walking down the hallway to the kitchen and the family room, I glide my fingers across all of the pictures hanging. The ones of him and I, our adventures, our families. I giggle, looking at the one where we are making the craziest faces we can in a photo booth down in Kentucky.

In the kitchen, I pull out a pan for scrambled eggs and a skillet for bacon. I whip some eggs and add in cheese, just the way he likes it. I start puttin on the bacon before the eggs because that takes a bit longer. Letting that sizzle, I set the table in the dining room. I place a plate on the end seat for him and one for me at the opposite end since our table is very short. I even fold our napkins neatly and put a candle in the middle of the table.

I check on the bacon and flip the pieces. I start to make the eggs, fluffy, cheesy scrambled eggs. Once breakfast is made, I grab our plates and fill them. I cut up little pieces of strawberries and line them up on the side of our plates and drizzle a little strawberry sauce on them, topping it off with a dab of whipped cream. Putting the plates back on the table, I smile at my perfection. I fill two glasses of chocolate milk and put them on the table as well. Time to wake him up!

I crack the door to the bedroom open and peek in to make sure he is still sleeping. To no surprise, he is. My side of the bed is closest to the door, so he is still facing away from me. He hasn’t moved. Strange, he usually tosses and turns every couple of minutes. I slide back into bed, facing him, and put my arm under his. Putting my hand on his chest, he’s ice cold. I pull my arm back, confused. I shake him a little and call his name. No response.

“Babe? Babe! Wake up, I made breakfast.”

He doesn’t move, he doesn’t make a sound. I begin to worry. I go to turn him, but hesitate. I turn him anyways. I scream.

The sight of him is so horrifying. His mouth open larger than normal, as if it was a black hole. His eyes were open, but revealed nothing but pools of darkness. There was so much blood. It seeped from his mouth, his eye, even his ears. He didn’t wear a shirt to bed, so his chest was bare, except for the word “Him” that was carved deep into his skin. He was a bloody mess.

I stumble around, trying to get out of bed, but I only manage to fall hard on the ground. Slipping and sliding on the wooden floors, I push myself up and run into the kitchen to call 911. I’m screaming into the phone, telling them something had happened to my husband and he was dead. I tried to explain everything I saw, but they didn’t believe me. They thought I was crazy because my descriptions were of something inhuman. I slam the phone on the ground.

Tears won’t stop flowing. My hands were bloody from touching him. I run back to the room but the door is only slightly open. I slowly open it, only to reveal that he wasn’t there. The bed was still filled with blood, but he was gone. My eyes dart around the room, searching. My heart is pounding with fear and sadness. It becomes harder to breathe and I drop to my hands and knees. This can’t be happening. I start to sob uncontrollably, but my sobs cease when a hand lays on my shoulder. An ice cold hand.

My head turns slowly. It was Him.

~~~

I wake up and my heart's still pounding as if I was still in this nightmare. So much for a happy ending to a perfect love story.

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© 2018 Natasha

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Reviews

barleygirl

The first paragraph is well-designed to show us that the lady really loves the man, but the man might not be so nice back to the lady. Good way to show this in a subtle way, with the dropping of the remote. This sets up your story with some "dread" -- the reader is wondering what bad thing is going to happen?

Similarly, as the breakfast is being made in a sweet, caring manner, the reader is still feeling like some big bad shoe is going to drop soon. This is well-crafted to convey an underlying sense of dread all along. Of course the dead man is even worse than we were expecting as we read!

I noticed that most of this is written in present tense ("I wake up and my heart is still pounding") . . . but the paragraph (near the end) starting with "Tears won't stop flowing" . . . this is written in past tense ("my hands were bloody") -- just a little glitch that happens to all of us!

Feel free to continue read-requesting . . . I enjoy your writing. I'm starting to wonder if each chapter will be a dream!?!? You write as if each chapter is a short story that could stand on its own . . . (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie