The water pressed in at him from all sides, cold and suffocating. He forced his eyes open, they burned with cold and slowly adjusted to the minimal light. He looked around frantically for the key hoping it wasn’t out of reach on the ocean floor. He could see nothing on the bottom the river sludge had been too stirred up and rose shifting in clouds. Then a tiny stream of bubbles caught his eye. He kicked down his muscles and lungs screaming. The chain attached to his leg catching and pulling at him and his body telling him to go the other way. His hands grazed the bottom. He scrambled for something to grab hold of to keep himself there. Something sharp snagged his fingers and then they touched something that felt right. He was losing consciousness and desperate to breath in but knew he couldn’t. He somehow fumbled the key into the lock at his ankle and breathed in turning the key as he chocked. He rose no longer held down by the concreate and chains. His head broke the surface. He spewed water coughing and gaging. He thrashed his way to the far bank. Spewed more water and collapsed on the rocks. He didn’t even have the energy to find amusement in the fact they’d thrown the key in first to taunt him with hope only to throw him on top of it and leave. They were overconfident and now they would pay for it. When he had a little more energy anyway.
Great story. I like the details both of the moment and the flashes of the past.
Source: Writing Prompt #348
She somehow finds the last of her energy and launches herself up and at him with the knife. She could taste the familiar metallic tang in her mouth and knew that her lip was bleeding. It barely healed before this episode. It was a daily ritual for him as he enters the house and immediately loses his mind. It wasn’t anything important or drastic this time. It was that his dinner was a bit cold.
The reason was never really important or drastic. The children are still awake. The lights in the kitchen were on. Her friend called during dinnertime. All ridiculous reasons.
But this time, when she felt her head bang on the table again, it was as if something or someone possessed her. She could feel her eyes swelling and her lip burst open but she didn’t cry again. This time was different. She…
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There was a knock at my door.
‘Coming Darling,’ I called.
I opened the door to find two police men standing dripping on my doorstep.
‘Mrs Hess?’ the older one asked.
‘Yes, I was expecting my husband,’ I said, ‘what is this about?’
‘May we come in?’ asked the older of the two.
‘Yes would you like a drink,’ I said politely, ‘what is this about?’
‘I think you should sit down,’ said the younger.
I sat down.
‘We are sorry to inform you that your husband is dead, his car ran off the cliff,’ said the older.
‘No your wrong he can’t have,’ I said.
‘Is this your husband?’ asked the older showing me his driver’s licence in an evidence bag.
‘Yes,’ I said starting to cry.
They stood awkwardly watching me.
‘I shouldn’t have made him go out in this weather,’ I said, ‘I shouldn’t have asked him to get me soup.’
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ said the older one.
I knew it was but I wasn’t going to tell anyone what I’d done.
‘Do you know how it happened,’ I sniffed and grabbed a tissue.
‘A truck swung onto the wrong side of the road and he swerved off the road to avoid it,’ he said.
‘I shouldn’t have asked for the soup,’ I started crying again.
What I really shouldn’t have done, what I hadn’t needed to do was sabotage the brakes, the ironic thing was he would have died tonight anyway in this random accident. The younger policeman patted my hand sympathetically while the older went to make us some tea.