“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.”
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.
Written for Priceless Joy’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Photo credit: Yarnspinnerr.
If 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.
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.”
It 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.
Written for this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt. Image credit: Eric Wiklund.