Hell Hath No Fury

61A1D6D9-F978-4733-B38E-F762948D1B5FI have no idea how it got there, I swear,” Tim said.

“You’re drunk!” Alicia said, tears welling up in her eyes. “You waltz in here at almost midnight, barely able to stand up, slurring your words, smelling like her perfume, and you have the nerve to tell me that you have no idea how her lipstick on got on your collar?”

“Okay, fine, but I promise you, babe, nothing happened,” Tim insisted. “Yes, I had dinner with your sister at her apartment, but it was just dinner and a bottle of wine. We were both a bit tipsy, and she said wanted me to sleep with her. But I told her no. So we hugged before I left, and she must have smudged her lipstick on my collar in order to cause a rift between you and me. You know how she’s always been jealous of you.”

“My husband and my sister, huh?” Alicia said. She smiled at Tim, moved in close to him and whispered tenderly in his ear, “You always said that you’re a family man.”

She plunged the kitchen knife deep into his gut. Still smiling, Alicia said, “Let me remind you of something you should have learned in English lit, Tim. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

As the light started to fade from Tim’s eyes, Alicia added, “Don’t fret, sweetheart, my jealous sister will soon be learning this same lesson.”


Written for yesterday’s Story Starter Challenge from Teresa (aka The Haunted Wordsmith). The story starter is, “I have no idea how it got there.”

FFfAW — I Am Finally Free

A7537329-AFC2-48DB-A6CC-912899DA49EF“Why are you doing this, brother?” she asked him.

“I must,” he said. “It is my duty. You have shamed the family by having pre-marital sex.”

“But brother,” she said, “I am your sister. It’s not right. You, yourself, have bedded a woman. A married woman at that.”

“I am a male, I am permitted to have relations with a woman outside of marriage,” he said. “You, are not. You have brought this on yourself.”

He continued to row the small rowboat to the center of the lake. Once there, he directed her to take off her life vest and turn around so he could bind her wrists.

“Don’t do this, brother,” she pleaded. “Let me go and I’ll disappear and never return.”

“I cannot….”

But before he said another word, she grabbed an oar and struck him hard on the head. She removed the life vest from his limp body and threw him overboard. “I am finally free!” she shouted, and picked up the oars and rowed to the far shore of the lake.

(175 words)


Written for Priceless Joy’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Photo credit: Yarnspinnerr.

50 Word Thursday — The Ring

DC722FF8-487C-4F60-BF89-E9686866E692If I’d stopped to think I might not have done it, but fury is a great disregarder of caution. I jumped into the murky water from the houseboat we’d rented to try to retrieve the diamond engagement ring my fiancé, in a fit of rage, threw overboard.

I decided to confess that I’d had sex with her sister, but tried to explain that I, in a moment of weakness, was seduced by her sister. That was no reason for her to toss that expensive ring into the water. 

Now my whole body is covered with welts from jellyfish stings.

(100 words)


Written for Deb Whitman’s 50 Word Thursday prompt. The idea is to respond to the prompt in multiples of 50 words – maximum of 250 words. Deb provides a photo and a random phrase from a book she is reading. We can use either or both. This week’s phrase is, “If I’d stopped to think I might not have done it, but fury is a great disregarder of caution.”

Sunday Photo Fiction — Mean and Inconsiderate

723932EE-D420-4715-8A6E-0D5A0FA1A04FIt was, perhaps, the meanest act I’d ever committed. Certainly the most inconsiderate. But I was only ten-years-old, so what did I know?

My father loved to build miniature settings. He had constructed an elaborate village around his HO scale train set in our attic. It included a train station, post office, church, store, and a few homes. There were painted roads with small cars and trucks and tiny little people. It was fully landscaped with trees and shrubs, hills, and a creek. A true work of art.

For Christmas one year, he decided to build a little fairy village on our patio for my younger sister. He constructed it from twigs, straw, branches, and stones. He built a tiny church, shed, fire pit, table, and bench. It was exquisite.

He finished it just in time for Christmas and, when Christmas morning arrived, my sister and I eagerly opened our presents. My favorite was a 20-inch tall Godzilla monster doll.

Dad escorted us out to our back patio and unveiled the fairy village. My sister squealed in delight. I, with Godzilla in hand, proceeded to destroy the tiny village by stomping all around, making horrible monster noises, just like the movie.

(202 words)


Written for this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt. Image credit: Eric Wiklund.