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Don't even think about the story you're about to write. Just start writing it and let the plot unfold.
Cover image for post Turnabout Is Fair Play, by sandflea68
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sandflea68 in Fiction

Turnabout Is Fair Play

She was bitterly cold as she lay on the wet leaves of the foreboding forest floor. The wicked grin of the pockmarked moon failed to shed any light on her plight. Why couldn’t she remember why she was here? Running her hands down her arms, she felt sticky liquid and touched her fingers to her lips to taste it. The salty, metallic taste of blood assailed her senses, bringing a wave of abject horror to the young woman.

“Help me, help me!” she moaned barely above a whisper through her cracked lips.

And then, she remembered that he said he was coming back. Desperately, she crawled to a softer patch of earth and frantically began to dig a hole with her hands until they bled. The driving rain made it almost impossible since the edges of the hole kept caving in. Reaching for some fallen branches, she laid them against the side of the widening hole to shore up the walls. She was just so tired and injured that she kept blacking out but finally was able to complete the next part of her plan. She threw jagged rocks into the pit before placing branches on top of the hole, and then scooped up wet leaves to make a covering over the cavity.

Crawling back behind the trap, she waited for him to return. Soon, she heard snapping twigs and heavy boots stomping toward her, knowing he was back. She saw the glint of a knife in his hand as he strode toward her. As he tramped angrily toward her, the roof of the trap caved in with his weight as he yelled in his surly voice, flailing arms attempting to break his fall.

Falling on the knife blade, he screamed in pain, “You bitch! Wait until I get out of here.” But of course, he couldn’t due to the severity of his injury as he thrashed in pain and died a slow death.

She smiled to herself in a sense of satisfaction as she dragged herself to the clearing where she finally remembered he had left her car. Pulling herself inside, she found the key on the floorboards, started the car and roared off. His death was no loss to the world. He was the worst husband she ever had!

If only he hadn’t discovered that she was spiking his iced tea with antifreeze!

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