| A Man and his Bread | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Feb 2 2010, 03:02 PM (60 Views) | |
| Wayne | Feb 2 2010, 03:02 PM Post #1 |
![]()
|
A short story I wrote after we were given the task to write a ghost story about a man going out for bread. Gert “Going to get bread!” I slam the door behind me and attach the deadbolt, locking it securely, then climb up onto my bike. The air is chilly, and I hunch my thick coat up further, the one I had bought myself last week with the last of the savings. Gert didn’t complain, she knew not to. I check each and every window, making sure they’re barred, then I heave myself out of the driveway and onto the main road. The rain instantly stabs my face, glass shards of ice pin-pricking my unshaven cheeks. I didn’t need to shave anymore. What was the point, she never appreciated it. Thirty years of marriage, and she still eats all the bread. Spoilt woman. I spoil her, I do. I’ll make sure she won’t do it again though. I WILL!! The traffic sighs past me in the chill night air as I pump my bicycle along the main road. The lights of the town signal me to approach. I could go to any shop really, even that cheap one down the road. But the best bread is from a little further on, at the other side of town. Doesn’t cost much, but makes a fine sandwich. I get from the Greengrocer’s on Almond Road HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME, HOW COULD YOU AFTER THIRTY YEARS OF MARRIAGE I LOOKED AFTER YOU YOU TREAT ME THIS WAY NEVER ANY CONSIDERATION FOR MY EFFORTS YOU UNGRATEFUL SPITEFUL BITCH!!! called Shop and Carry, where the owner knows me quite well, so I sometimes get a discount. I churn my bike through the puddles of rain, occasionally wiping my eyes. I should have worn a raincoat really. In fact, I shouldn’t even be out. That bread should have lasted a week, at least, but no. Gert had to STABBED ME IN THE BACK SHE DID. I’LL NEVER FORGIVE HER pinch the last of it. So here I am, getting drenched in the middle of night, with chavs and hooligans and God knows who else infesting the streets, waiting to pounce. Feral monsters, the lot of em. Not like my Gert, she knows how to behave. And then I brake so fast I almost throw myself onto the road. Did my eyes… just…. Never.. I don’t believe it but there she is! I must be going crazy…what’s she doing there? My wife…with that what’s his face! That bloke! How’d she get out of the house? I’d barred…I’d bolted…. Sat there in a restaurant with NOT AGAIN!! PLEASE NOT THIS!! …that Kevin bloke! I throw my bike onto the road and stumble through the rain towards the restaurant, pounding on the windows. “Gert!” I yell. “How dare you leave the house!” I thrust open the doors of the restaurant and, with the wind, rain and rage storming around me, I barge my way to their table. They never even notice. I reach for a nearby knife, this will get their notice PLEASE NOT AGAIN NOT THIS AGAIN and I plunge the blade into that Kevin bloke’s back again and again. All the while I watch Gert look at me, her eyes boring into my soul, that look she always gave me when she felt guilty. I expected screams from that Kevin, but no. Instead he says to her: “Sandra, he’s here again isn’t he?” HOW DARE HE USE HER REAL NAME?? ONLY I’M ALLOWED TO THAT BASTARD I’LL KILL YOU I’LL KILL YOU I’LL KILL YOU!!! GERT, YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND THIRTY YEARS I WAS HELPING YOU!! And then I collapse, my world fading around me. Gert stares at me, her eyes as sharp as that knife. But the knife had done nothing. That Kevin bloke wraps his arms round my wife, and there’s not a drop of blood on him. Instead the blood is on my hands. The stab wounds pierce me. And the agony is intense. But not as unbearable as the pain in my chest. Gert had killed me. YOU STABBED ME IN THE BACK!! HEART ATTACK KILLED….BUT IT WAS YOU YOU AND THAT KEVIN BLOKE!! BETRAYED!! And now I’m in a cold place, so cold. GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD GET THE BREAD But the bread has run out. She’d used the last of it. I need to get some, but it’s raining out. I call out to Gert, but she doesn’t answer. Sod her. “Going to get bread!” I slam the door behind me and attach the deadbolt, locking it securely, then climb up onto my bike. The air is chilly, and I hunch my thick coat up further, the one I had bought myself last week with the last of the savings. Gert didn’t complain, she knew not to. |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · Fiction · Next Topic » |








1:19 PM Jul 11