a story

This is a version of a wee story that I put up on my last website, and it seemed a good a place to start as any with this one.


Comeoncomeoncomeonfrustratedstuck, you could say the word 'wrath' then it's not so ordinary and petty when the knife slips – it’s an accident, I swear to God – and out comes that escaping air noise whsssshh I can see it feel it mushrooming like the instant regret in my hands to my face oh no. Phone mom but situations like this are so difficult to describe to moms, I’m being evasive and full of excuses and of course she’s willing to lie for me, just wait and see how it is in the morning, then you’ll know what damage you’ve done.

But already I know it’s Death. Lukewarm to the touch and I can hear the dying part, sharp collapsing chunkchunk noises, the corpse collapsing from the inside out all through the night, maybe it's just in my head but I don't think so, anything is possible when you listen hard enough. And now Jesus there will be hard questions with no answers never mind how I explain it to myself, never mind nothing ever goes the right way and naturally I have no luck, nothing can ever be easy. How much will I have to suffer for this?

The next morning is the liquid evidence all over my kitchen floor, death decay smells stinking in my nostrils. Even though there is no point in denying the obvious it is against every natural instinct when I phone the proper authorities to confess. Blurting it out, hoping for understanding, straight ahead, no meandering. Well, she says, that’s not the right way to defrost a freezer, you can't take a knife to it like that, even if it is just a butter knife, once you’ve punctured it and the freon’s out it’s game over, you’re going to have to pay for that. And then there’s that anger again, right there in the handle of the knife.


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