Cheated

A man struggles with his own dark thoughts

                    CHEATED

 

I must dispel this sense of foreboding, this hungry animal of indignant feelings that feed’s on my very soul. For if I do not malice will take its place.

For the past month I have gradually sunk to the lowest ebb, my emotions are ragged. My body tired of the internal conflict that threatens to over throw my very sanity. Still long hours provide passage to my inner voice who like a malevolent devil conjures up images

and allows the drama to play in the theater of my mind. A performance like no other, each scene compounds my jealous rage; there is no antidote for hate. And yet

a sound or smell refreshes me for a period affording joyful recollections of a young love, innocent of the turmoil that matrimony and age bestows . Oh how once we were members

of that carefree institution- and then the honeymoon ends.

 

Life then becomes a habit- like your warmest winter coat; even when you’ve out grown it still you can’t discard it. The adhesive of love can melt just like an autumn frost, but I cannot say for sure when the rime set in.

 

Was the evidence there and perhaps I just didn’t see it, were the clue’s evident and I choose to ignore them? - In any event I am here, a prisoner of my own covetous sprite.

When in the night I yearn for release, still they linger, insecurity and contempt.

Oh what wickedness still lies beside me, no doubt content in her perverse dreams of another- her midnight moans are not of pain more over a fragmented pleasure recalled.

Whilst devoid of my own slumber I lie and stare at the ceiling combating with my

inner turmoil  that her affair my be of my construction. I twist and turn in what seems an endless night, and then my determination rises, before dawn-tomorrow she must confess. My confrontation will show no mercy, she will admit to her adultery-I expect no less.

But when the morning comes as there have been many others my Dutch courage has vanished like a phantom and left my feelings sober, she smiles across the breakfast table at me and I return the gesture. But my manner is without conviction- a painted face, a mask of deprivation. We seldom speak much albeit we are alone; conversation is meaningless unless the topic is shared with sincerity, but although when I try to brooch the subject of her last evening out and who she was with, she charges me with interference and vacates the discussion, leaving an abyss of silence. In these moments |I hate her.

 

Sometimes the phone rings but when I answer the line goes suddenly dead- and always the number is withheld, this fuels my anxiety and fills up the well of my anger. My frustration in my compulsory solitude is then aimed at the very same device. After which I imagine him breathing, his heart racing.I hold the handset, staring, wishing-willing him dead by my thoughts alone. But I know this cannot happen.

I am weak, I know that. What other man would allow this situation to continue, a better man would be direct, confront her say things like�"‘It’s him or me’- ‘what does he offer you that I cannot’? -  Am I afraid of the truth? - Honestly? �" Yes. I fear that most of all.

So I hold my tongue, pretending that nothing has changed, but deep down I loath her deception, sometimes in my moments of deepest despair evil thoughts invade my reason,

the malevolence takes form .I see the knife grasped in my blood drenched hand, her crimson life force dripping onto the bedroom carpet. The gaping throat wound gurgling as she tries to suck in her last dying breath.

My feeling of repulsion and liberation compounds into a drug, as she lies prone on our martial bed, her eyes wide and terrified at my covert revenge. All the while I am detached from myself overcome with the intoxication of deliverance.

Still I must persuade myself that these actions must remain forever a cerebral illusion, for I have neither the courage nor the strength of character to deliver. Conclusion is evident- she has won.

Now that I concede I feel a weight has lifted from my shoulders, the fog of detestation has at last begun to thin letting in the sunshine of clarity. I shall wait until her next digression.

I must prepare with secrecy, the act will lose potency if detected early-my regret will be that I shall not see her face when her eyes befall my finale, and my worry is that the rope will hold my weight and carry me swiftly into the realm of serenity that I yearn for.

My note shall read simply-‘Life needs love to survive’

 

A short story by Will Neill March 2007

Author's Note

I wrote this one rainy afternoon and decided to experiment with alternative words than normal. If you like it-great if not then thats o.k too (don't take to seriously) it is short but hopfully worth a read--comments welcome
Enjoy.
Will

Reviews

[Kathy Van Kurin]

'Cheated'
Will Neill,
When reading the reality of desperation and futility is obvious. How many people grasp for release because of trauma, disillusionment and the sadness of days which have become joyless? You played out a scenario of this loss for your main character pretty well. I wondered what he looked like as well as his wife. This writing was definitely from an emotional point of view. It also showed the inner workings of imagination very well. You are a good writer.
Bless you!
Kathy

[Marie]

I agree with Roarke; it's rather like Poe. All the introspection, the tightly held grief...the one revenge that can never take place; then the revenge of a suicide getting even with life...

[Will Neill]

Thank you Marie, I was just going over what I had posted a year ago and thought could be ready to be read again.
Will

[roarke]

obsessive introspection ala Poe. You've got strong sentence structure. The MC's personality is shown well in the rendering of his thoughts. I like the way you made a smooth transition into the ending twist. Good writing.

[Tegon Maus]

Interesting Will... a little disturbing but interesting. With two sides to every coin I would have to ask what would push her in a cheating direction. And murder? Yikes !! All the way to sucide ?? Double Yikes !! I hope it doesn't rain all that often where you are.

[Rob Santana]

Wow, what a roller coaster of heated emotions!! I like the beginning where it jumps right into his anger. That is the worse when your mind plays with you and starts filling you with insane images and thoughts. I did not expect the twist at the end. What got me was when they were sitting at the table and she smiles at him knowing what she did and he smiles back at her, knowing what SHE did. UGH!!!!!!!!! hahaha, the ending angered me because I understood why he said she won. I shouted out loud NO DON'T DO IT!!!!!!! Good write Will....... I look forward to reading more of your work.

[Rogue]

I found this a very good and introspective look into a man who feels betrayed by the one person he trusted above all. It kept me both interested and curious from the beginning and all the way through.
You did a great job with it overall. :)

[Will Neill]

Thank you Storyworker for taking the time to reveiw this story, I'm glad you enjoyed it.
I knew when I wrote this piece that it would not be for everyone-and that meant that some would not read it all--I suppose it could come across as a rambling character but I tried to show how obsessed he had become and how it was effecting his whole life to the point that his only way for revenge was the ulitimate action. I've read over this only a few times since it's inception and each time I leave it alone. But thanks again (I am always open for critque) I wasn't insulted at all.

Keep Well.
Will.

[Storyworker]

First, nice job. You’ve obviously worked extremely hard on this and you’ve looked at every line to give each one meaning. This is a good look into the mind of a cheated individual. If you look at every line you really see how well-done this is.

Now, don’t be insulted, but on the first read through this story seems like a ramble. Don’t get me wrong, I also have trouble when working with some voice types figuring out how to stop my character’s thoughts and descriptions from simply becoming rants. It’s a hard thing to figure out. A rambling character is one that many don’t read about. Even if each line is expertly crafted to the point that it means something, many won’t want to read it simply because they don’t understand, or won’t take the time to do so.

In other words, this is art. It does not appear to be made for the everyday person to understand and admire. Instead this story is made for those who really want to examine and understand an art form. You won’t get much recognition for art these days, but when you do get attention, it will be better than getting attention for something you just wrote without thinking.

Unless you really slow down and read every sentence though, you don’t completely understand. One thing that I think you could do to make people not simply skim over this is to make each sentence stand out more. Somehow, make each sentence shock the reader to the point that they MUST understand what the character is thinking. Many people aren’t going to slow down and remember each sentence unless they are truly memorable.

The dramatic style of the story is one that really makes the reader think, “Wow, this is really well written.” But in the end, the reader will only be admiring how the story is written. They will not be admiring the meaning or plot. Somehow get that meaning out there. Make it clear and possibly show the character’s thoughts in a more attention-getting way.

That’s all for me. The story is well-written, but not quite memorable yet. It needs a certain power to grab the reader’s attention to make them understand the meaning behind the character’s thoughts.

P.S. Your experimentation with alternative words is extremely interesting. I'd explore that a bit, because it was really well-done.

Don’t be insulted by my review. These are just my first opinions. It is YOUR choice on what to take from it. You are the one writing the story, not me, so use what you think is good advice and disregard the others stuff. Good luck!