Tuesday, 10 April 2012

Terror Scribes Teaser 3: Sharon Kae Reamer & Robert D. Rowntree

 My wife’s body felt lumpy against my right shoulder; pressure points struggling beneath her dead weight. Fat bitch. Firmer criticism of her eating habits may have helped, but the point was moot now.

Dropping her down onto the grassy bank, her body wheezed, expelling a last remnant breath. She’d liked it here between the sparse pine and the shore, something about the drowned buildings, the school’s boiler chimney, the church spire and the old ruined house still visible above the waves. Romantic she’d called it.

Bloody gloomy; the low overcast made everything grey, and wet: a dampener for my Valium buzz.
Before Mary’s accident—no that’s not right, before I’d ended Mary’s life, before I’d killed her; this place always gave me the shivers. The drowned villages and loss of history were oppressive and depressive in equal measure. Mary’s enjoyment of the place bred resentment, a mounting pressure-cooker waiting for release. And oh it had come, erupting in glorious violence.

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