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taxi, burning, quietly 3WW fiction

August 15, 2007 By pia

I wrote this in 20 minutes before Bone generated the words or whatever he does. They fit well.

Pia Savage Fiction

She paced. It was 60 steps to the end of the living room. 58 steps going back. She could never figure that out. 32 steps if she paced the width either way. The room was large. She and Rick had been so happy when they found this huge Tudor house in Forest Hills Gardens. It was perfect. Unlike their friends they didn’t want an apartment in the city. Rick’s inheritance paid for the house.

They had married the weekend of their college graduation. It was wonderful to have a real home to go back to, after the South Pacific honeymoon.

Corrina was hardly aware of her surroundings. The recently upholstered lush hot pink velvet couch with a drop leaf oak table behind it, soda bottle topped coffee table Rick had made for her years ago in front of the couch. Mismatched colored wood chairs, they had stripped and painted, a burgundy velvet love seat that should have have clashed with the couch but didn’t, one wall filled with light wood book shelves, bay windows with a window seat, a wood burning fireplace she hadn’t lit in two years. She saw none of this. Nor did she feel the cool terrazzo tile floor.

She paced back and forth. The night was warm. She could have taken a walk. She could have paced through the other rooms but instead she paced in the living room. It was her comfort zone, she guessed. It reminded her of days, just yesterday it seemed, when the room would be filled with people enjoying themselves.

She wished she had the patience to read a book or watch TV in the TV room. Everybody had assumed they were going to fill the house with kids. In college they had dreamed of having four children. After grad school, they had been so immersed in their careers, traveling, the house and mostly each other, their lives felt full. There was always tomorrow.

Each week they would find another reason to have a party. Friends and family would ring the doorbell, or call ten minutes in advance. They knew if Corrina and Rick were home they were usually welcome. Corrina had thought of putting a green sign on the door if they were available, red if they wanted to be alone. Rick actually made one.

Rick had done the cooking, and would set the food out on table. Corrina was good at arranging. No, really Rick was, but people assumed she had to be good at something but mixing drinks and talking. Drinks and tapas would be set on the coffee table and little tables next to the chairs. Family parties and large dinners happened in the dining room. In fine weather the parties would take place on the deck off the dining room.

So many parties. So many people had laughed, ate, talked about everything and nothing over the past 20 years.

Corrina had told her friends not to come tonight or any night recently. They were all worried about her. She didn’t need sympathy. She needed laughter, and that would never happen. Not now. Maybe someday in the far off future but she really really couldn’t imagine that. If people weren’t going to fill the room with happy laughter, she wanted quiet. Even Asta, the Terrier had learned to bark quietly. She hadn’t known Asta was capable of quiet.

The phone rang. The noise jarred Corrina. She answered in a whisper. It was the assistant district attorney. The jury was coming in. In 45 minutes she would find out whether Rick’s murderer was found innocent or guilty. For the first time she looked at the couch. She had found his body there. For five minutes she had stared quietly in disbelief. Then she screamed so loudly neighbors came running.

Corrina called for a taxi. She didn’t trust herself to drive the quick ride from the Gardens to the courthouse. Though she didn’t believe in the death penalty, she felt something slightly resembling happiness picturing the murderer, she could never think of by name, burning in Hell.

Filed Under: Fiction

« HAPPY BLOGGIVERSARY TO ME, but uh….and Karl Rove resigned: coincidence?
For my mother »

Comments

  1. Nancy says

    August 15, 2007 at 10:50 am

    WOW! This is really, really good. Loved it.

  2. paisley says

    August 15, 2007 at 11:26 am

    muderer????who got murdered… please say it wasn’t rick…..

  3. paisley says

    August 15, 2007 at 11:28 am

    am i a dumb ass or what… never mind… i was missing a whole paragraph somehow… teach me to read and talk to the dogs at the same time……

  4. gautami says

    August 15, 2007 at 11:35 am

    How do you do it? I simply enjoy your posts!

  5. Gay says

    August 15, 2007 at 2:34 pm

    The murder caught me by surprise…

    Divorce, adultery, all that seems commonplace–but for her emotional state to be caused by THAT kind of loss just leapt out at me.

    There is a special challenge, isn’t there, in adding the words after the fact. I usually have 2 or 3 episodes of Norbert and Smedley written ahead, because I put them out twice and week, and I’m that sort of obsessive/compulsive type. (If there weren’t a schedule I tried to stick to, I wouldn’t worry, but I get e-mails if an episode is late), so some weeks, it’s a real PITA.

  6. Jenny says

    August 15, 2007 at 2:42 pm

    I love this. You’re such a good writer. Makes me jealous.

  7. Marcia (MeeAugraphie) says

    August 15, 2007 at 3:57 pm

    I went from thinking divorce to old age death. The murder was a surprise. I liked the detail that she wanted laughter or quiet.

  8. Write From Karen says

    August 15, 2007 at 4:13 pm

    Wonderful. LOVED the description of the house – that really brought the whole scene alive for me. (My primary weakness is description).

    LOVED how you kept us guessing until the end what happened to Rick. I thought perhaps he had left her at first – was even more surprised, and intriqued when I found out he had been killed.

    LOVED all the whispering, as if she kept quiet, kept things contained and under control, she wouldn’t give in to her rage and confusion.

    And I agree – the death penalty is too soft of a crime for someone like that. Burn in hell indeed.

    Excellent piece.

  9. kate says

    August 15, 2007 at 8:32 pm

    wow, you are right that the words fit perfectly! Great piece. I like your blog and will have to have a look around! Cheers! Kate

  10. lissa says

    August 15, 2007 at 9:23 pm

    I did not know it was coming. I thought she was waiting for Rick to tell him somethings. I was totally off. It was a surprise twist. Nicely done.

  11. sage says

    August 16, 2007 at 8:02 am

    that was a big room–her pacing kept me pondering what had happened till that twist at the end.

  12. Shelby says

    August 16, 2007 at 8:50 am

    love a twist at the end..

    take care and happy Thursday!

  13. Bone says

    August 16, 2007 at 3:37 pm

    Wow. Powerful last line, ‘tor.

    Love this also:
    She didn’t need sympathy. She needed laughter, and that would never happen.

    Though the 60/58 steps thing is really driving me crazy. Is there anyway you could explain this in your next story? 🙂 Or else give me the address to the house so that I may research it myself. I must know.

  14. Fledgling Poet says

    August 16, 2007 at 4:07 pm

    Very good!! You drew me right in and I wanted to keep on reading…

  15. cooper says

    August 16, 2007 at 11:06 pm

    Muchly great as always.

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About Me

I live in the South, not South Florida, a few blocks from the ocean, and two blocks from the main street. It's called Main Street. Amazes me too.

I'm from New York. I mostly lived in the Mid-Upper East Side, and the heart of the Upper West Side. It amazes me when people talk about how scared they were of Times Square in the 1970's and 1980's.

As my mother said: "know the streets, look out and you'll be fine."

What was scary was the invasion of the crack dens into "good buildings in good 'hoods." And the greedy landlords who did everything they could to get good tenants out of buildings.

I'm a Long Island girl, and proud of it now.
Then I hated everything about the suburbs. Yet somehow I lived in a few great Long Island Sound towns after high school.

Go to archives "August 2004" if you want to begin with the first posts.

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