Tales of the unexplained - in 500 words
I don’t understand, I really don’t understand. How the hell did it happen? When? Why? What did I do?

Oh don’t give me that “It’s not you, it’s me” shit - who the hell was it then? There was only you and me, and if it was you, why the hell couldn’t you talk to me about it?

What do you mean you mean I never listen? I don’t understand.

Of course I noticed there was something wrong. I’m not fucking blind am I? I know you’ve been a bit down lately, OK very down for a while, OK for quite a while, but I thought it was just life, you know? Money, the kids, your job. My job.

Well no, now you fucking mention it, I’ve not been happy for ages if you must know.

Why didn’t I mention it? Well what exactly would you have done?

Oh right, so now you want to talk do you. Well forget about me for a minute, try talking about you. Who is he?

Oh you have got to be joking! You’re not serious? Well, fuck me. You’re a joke, a fucking sick joke. I don’t want to talk to you any more. Just go and pack your stuff and get the hell out of my house.

Oh yes you are. I’m not having you here for another night; I can’t bear to look at you.

Oh no. The kids are staying here. I’m not having you upsetting them any more than necessary. If you want to do this, then fuck right off and go to him, he’s welcome to you.

No, I won’t be quiet. I’ve been quiet too long, you can shut up.

I’m going to get a drink. I want you to go upstairs and pack your things right this minute and if you wake the kids then I’ll tell them exactly what’s happening and why: their Mum’s fucking off with some tosser from work because she’s an old slapper that doesn’t give a shit about them or what happens to them from now on as long as she gets a good shagging once in a while.

That’s right. Off you go.

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The bitch! I just can’t believe it. I don’t understand. I thought things were getting better, she seemed more cheerful - now I know why, the bitch! “No, I’m too tired tonight” too tired my fucking arse. I can’t believe I’ve been so thick, but then I’ve been so frigging busy.

I do not need this right now. I could really fucking do without this right now. The cow!

I was going to get in early tomorrow - 7.30 start, really get on top of the material before the presentation…now what the fuck am I going to do? If I call Mum first thing maybe she could come over, no, better still, I’ll get them up early and drive them over to her’s.

Fuck, where’s that new bottle.

If she’d only explain, maybe I could understand.

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Have a good weekend folks, and please leave your comments under the mat. I'll pick them up on Monday.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 15:47, 3 replies, latest was 16 years ago)

*eyes widen*
I hope that's not overly autobiographical!

*click*
( Boss Keloid Got your mother's maiden name tattooed on my arm, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 15:50, Reply)

I'm not sure about the first section...it's very 'machine gun fire'.

The second section makes more sense...

I think it's because it's so fragmentary - if it was set in a longer piece...maybe only a couple of sentences at the beginning to set the scene...but then again I rather like going straight into the action...Perhaps a line or two interspersed with that action at the beginning...But then again that might weaken the impact.

Hmm...I dunno....

I do really like the anger that comes off it though.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 18:09, Reply)

Getting right into the action is good
But I think it may need a bit of set up in this case. Maybe the conversation starting normally, "Honey, we need to talk" kind of thing, then slowly building until the revelation.

The second part's brilliant, very strong.

Good first draft, Che. The emotion is excellent, I could feel the anger pulsing through the words. Nice work
(Pavlov's Frog figures no-one really reads sigs anyway, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 21:37, Reply)