After ten years of marriage, she had the corner office, a six-figure salary. You had daddy daycare. You never complained. You were a good man. Everyone said so.
Christmas Eve you caught her with Glenlivet and pills. There was an SEC investigation. The ride was over, she'd be getting off.
"But the kids," you cautioned. She was serious. You could tell.
There was another option: you and your .45. The children would receive sympathy rather than shame. You, the good man, would take the blame.
She agreed. Although not to three slugs in the gut.
A good man? Perhaps not.
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Friday, December 20, 2013
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11 comments:
Nice! I like the line about the kids receiving sympathy rather than shame.
That's some sacrifice. I was hoping for another of your Lovecraftian moods, but this was a neat little, albeit depressing, chiller.
Ouch.
Nice! A Good Man really is hard to find, isn't he?
Loved this one, Loren. A good post? Perhaps yes.
Davin: That was the line I was most unsure about. In truth, I think kids would be just as shamed by a murdering father as a suicide mother. Still, I'm glad it worked.
John: After a year of reading all of Lovecraft's stories, I need a break!
Elizabeth: Yup. Afraid this was a nasty one.
CR: Yes, indeed.
Tony: You are too kind, sir.
Nicely crafted with just the right amount of suspense, Merry Christmas Loren!
Eek. Who knows the thoughts in another's head.
It took me a bit to get this one. Now, I feel slow. Good work, man.
Is it horrible that I laughed out loud at the end of this one? It reminded me of an episode of Tales From The Crypt. Fantastic.
Puh-pow. Nicely done!
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