Wicked intentions
by P.S.Gifford
forum: Wicked intentions
speculative fiction for the internet generation.

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Wicked intentions


       Harry lay there quietly contemplating in bed next to his wife Mildred- just as he had done so many times over the last twenty-six years.

       "Twenty six years," he muttered out loud almost without realizing it.

       Mildred still half asleep turned to him questioningly.

       "What was that Harry?" She murmured from her dream like state.

       "Just thinking where time has gone dear- that's all… Just thinking where time has gone."

       Harry mused over the strange events at his office yesterday. He was a journalist by trade, nothing glamorous, just a small time hack for the quiet town of Suffolk New Hampshire- population 26,000. A smile came to his lips, and he had to fight back the urge to chortle as he remembered how an ordinary Friday had infolded in an extraordinary way.

       Sally had come in to visit him again and as was there routine they secretly snuck off for a quiet intimate lunch together. They had first met just three months earlier at a birthday party for one of his wife's best friends, Marge. Sally had been the only thing memorable in a night filled with dismal conversation, ill prepared appetizers and an over consumption of cheap vodka .He had noticed Sally instantly. Hell, which red blooded man wouldn't? She was in her mid twenties, and her perfectly proportioned freckled face was deliciously framed by a delightful crop of natural blonde hair. Her figure was lean and athletic and she had worn a white sweater which snuggled her shapely figure enticingly. She too had appeared bored and he watched quietly fascinated as she ambled gracefully away from the chatter of conversation and gossip into the kitchen. Gulping down the last of the vodka in his glass, and deciding that perhaps cheap vodka was not so unbearable after all, he took a deep breath and had followed her in…

       He clumsily attempted to strike up a conversation under the ruse of looking for ice. Surely she was going to see through this? As he fumbled awkwardly at his wedding band and stared nervously from his graying blue eyes she flashed him an encouraging smile. Her reaction had the strangest of affects on him; it made him feel alive again. Seemingly detecting the profound influence she was having on him she introduced herself. Apparently she was the niece of Marge and that she was visiting with her aunt over the summer, in an attempt to rediscover her life's focus. She added that she had just gotten out of a horrible old relationship under gruesome circumstances and that she was finished with men. Her facial gestures seemed to Harry to contradict the words he was hearing. She continued to speak

       "So Harry tell me about you..." she had cooed.

       And he did, for the next forty-five minutes in fact, and she listened intently to every word. He told of his mundane childhood, attending the local College, getting his job at the newspaper and marrying his first real girlfriend. As he spoke she actually seemed engrossed, and made him feel interesting for the first time in his life. He narrated to the enticing stranger how the first few years of married life were blissful, but gradually routine and humdrum invaded, and reduced his existence to nothing more than a series of boring routines. She had nodded, knowingly and understandingly. He would have talked for much longer if Mildred hadn't come in search for him. As the door of the kitchen opened Harry turned around to see his wife's stare attempting to analyze the situation. He watched as she had shot a knowing glance towards Sally, then grabbed his hand and quickly ushered him back into the sitting room and back to the dozen or so dull couples. As Harry walked over to the makeshift bar and once again replenished his drink he somehow strangely knew that things would never be the same again.


       Over the next few weeks Sally often came to Harry's office, and it always ended up with long conversations over lunch… They had never even kissed, yet somehow Harry felt that fate had decided to deal him a much better hand, that Sally was in his destiny. Today, however, had been startling different from the others, as this had been the day that Sally made the suggestion. She proposed that Harry killed his wife. He had remembered his first impulse; he had actually found the idea exciting. But within a few minutes his proper Lutheran upbringing cleansed his thoughts as in that proper Lutheran way… Sally seemed to sense his reservations; she reached out and clasped his hand firmly in his, and stared Harry straight into his eyes.

       "Kill her and I will marry you." She smiled. "It will be surprisingly simple. Trust me you see I have devised the perfect plan."


       So here he was, and here Mildred was next to him. He ran over the words that Sally had confidently had told him earlier. "The simple plans are the best ones," she had whispered.
Harry looked at the clock, 7:00, and gradually climbed out of bed. It was time. He glanced at Mildred half asleep next to him; this is going to be easy, he thought to himself.

       He put on his black leather gloves, just as Sally had told him and removed the small knife from the plastic bag that Sally had given him yesterday. He returned to the bed and hesitated for a moment. In his head he imagined how wonderful it would be to awaken each morning next to Sally. Regaining his composure and motivation he took the long thin blade and gingerly started to edge closer and closer to Mildred.… Suddenly Mildred's eyes sprung open, and there was a loud unexpected sound of gun fire and Harry recoiled back with horror awash over his face. Then he fell to his knees and finally collapsed onto the bedroom carpet. He desperately, but hopelessly, attempted to hold back the gushing red blood with his leather clad hands.

       "Where did you get a gun?" Harry uttered trying frantically not to succumb to the desire of slipping into final unconsciousness.

       "Sally, my new lover," Mildred blurted. "She told me that she would be mine forever if I killed you. She told me that she had a plan, a simple plan. She told me that if I shot you in self defense that I would get away with murder…She told me she loved me."

       Harry closed his eyelids for the very last time.


The end.




copyright 2005 P.S.Gifford.

P.S.Gifford is is a particularly handsome and modest Englishman living and writing in California. He has penned well over one hundred short stories. He has a web site www.psgifford.com