Gut Feelings

Neil drove home, the tight feeling in his gut getting worse at every passing mile. Cars and lights blended together in that hypnotic way they do on such long and open stretches of highway. His eyes still fixed on the road, he wondered what in the hell could be making him so nervous. Kristy was safe at a friends for the weekend, and he was just pretty sure he had turned the oven off before locking the door behind him on his way out. His headlights shone against the dirty white walls of his garage doors. The damn outside light had gone out again, bathing him in a blanket of darkness as his interior lights faded off. Neil sighed and shook his head, taking the small stone steps up to his front door. He pierced the silence surrounding him with the sound of his jingling house keys knocking against each other. Holding the handle with one hand, Neil went to unlock his door, only to find it unlocked and the door slightly ajar. Neil shrugged to himself, imagining his mother rushing out so she didn't miss bingo. He chuckled to himself, stepping through the threshold imagining her playing bingo with her friends. He figured shed be home soon, if she wasn't already watching tv in her room.  As his foot hit the hardwood floor just inside, a scent hit his nose, so oddly familiar yet he couldn't place it. He could have sworn he knew that scent. His gut clenched again and he frowned, curious if perhaps it was the greasy burger he had eaten on his way home from work. A beer. All Neil needed was a cold beer and his old leather recliner, he was probably just stressed. Pulling open the fridge, a golden yellow light spilled across his kitchen. He reached in and grabbed a cold one. He sauntered over to his beaten but deeply loved recliner. Flicking on the TV, the news streamed across the screen showed that three women had escaped from the County jail. Two had been found. One was still free.

The scent was jasmine. It hit him in the chest like a truck, that damned smell was one hed never forget. Neil scrambled out of his chair, rushing for his phone when he heard the faint click he knew all too well. In the dimmly lit shadows of the stairway, he could see the soft glint of steel from the bright TV screen. It was as if time had slowed as she stepped from the shadows, Trisha. His wife, his enemy, probably soon to be his killer.

He looked down at the pistol in her hand, so big in such dainty hands. His eyes rose up slowly, taking in her thin lips curled into what was more a snarl than a smile. Her harsh eyes held a promise of the pain to come. Neil opened his mouth to speak yet no sound came out. She had tried to kill him before. He had hardly escaped with Kristy when he ran like hell. He didn't return home until the police had called to tell him she was in jail. She took a step toward him, raising the gun just a bit higher. There was a knife in his pocket. He had begun carrying it after she was brought to prison, better than nothing. Neil stopped backing up and took control of his emotions. He brought his face to a mask of calm and let Trisha walk up to him. Her smile alone was enough to make full grown men run the other way. Neil smiled back as she closed the space between them, their faces close enough to share breath.

Those eyes. So green. They had once been filled with so much love, so much compassion. Now there was nothing but a cold malice in them, it was like gazing into the pits of hell. Neil knew her. Hell, he was married to her for 10 years. She was cocky, she would enjoy this. There was one chance. One single shot or she would shoot him where he stood. He had to pull the knife as quickly as possible. He was done running. He was done fearing for his life. Neil raised his eyes to her and smiled back. His knees wobbled but his hand was steady as he casually reached for the knife.

A flash of light, and a boom loud enough to deafen any man jolted through his very core. His heart froze. His mother stood just behind Trisha, the double barreled shotgun he kept next to his bed in her old gnarled hands. Trishas smile had vanished as blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. She pulled the trigger as she fell, attempting to twist away, the bullet slamming home into his shoulder.

Trisha was dead.

Neil's vision blurred as he too fell to the ground, taking in the gun falling from his mother's grip and the concerned eyes hovering above him.

Reviews

[Chase Weik]

I did really enjoy the story Kyle! That being said, I do believe that it could use some work. The story is there and you obviously have enough creativity to get the reader engaged, but the structure and wording of the writing needs some help. You seem to start a lot of sentences with he, his, him, and her. Try to manage how often you use these words when starting a sentence or else your work may come off as unprofessional or poorly written. Another thing about this piece that throws me off would be the way that you organize the story. It just seems to blend all together and is a bit difficult to read. You could also use a more diverse vocabulary when you are describing some of the scenes that you created. Looking up synonyms online is a fantastic way to help combat this until you grow your vocabulary a bit more. For your first piece I really do think that you did a good job and I am giving you my honest opinion for everything. Keep at it and I can't wait to read your next piece Kyle!