My back feels bare as I place my bag into the dustbin, and I feel sad for using it. Of course my dumb-ass decided to use my favorite bag when I knew it would need getting rid of. I put the matchbox into a separate bin across the street, and kick the petrol container under someones partially-open garage door. All that I have now is my rope, hanging loosely from my left hand like a noose. It looks sad and lonely now it's fellow items have gone, and I mentally reassure it. Don't worry dear, you're very important. I need you for this to work. I know that it can't understand me, but it makes me feel better. The flames are lighting up the back part of the house now, and the first light in the neighborhood flickers on. The house is quite a way away, but it still panics me a little to hurry. I know I can get up the tree fast enough. But will the knot be good enough?
YOU ARE READING
Murder Machine - Short story (2200 words)
Misteri / ThrillerA young wife has had enough of her husband treating her like an obedient little machine he owns, so she takes her revenge. Meant to be read in one to two sittings, that's why the parts are so short!
