The Competition
written by: Melanie Barrow
‘I’m off to write’ John declared imperiously, ‘Keep the noise down.’ Sitting upright he adjusted his trousers, straightened the black leather notebook, and positioned his new gold trim Parker.
Downstairs Cheryl turned on Classic FM. ‘Va Pensiero’ – Hebrew Slaves, how appropriate! and plunged her line-worn hands into effervescent bubbles. ‘Effervescence,’ she rolled the word around on her tongue then quickly jotted it down in the dog-eared red notebook hidden in her apron pocket.
Beep, beep. ‘I’m coming,’ she pacified the washing machine. Piling clothes into the basket Cheryl flung open the back door, breathing in the outside. Citrus fragrance from the mock orange mixed with the heady smell of honeysuckle, made Cheryl pause. The sound of sparrows squabbling discordant against the mellifluous tinkling of wind chimes. Sensory overload. Pulling out her notebook she scribbled.
Back indoors she plugged the hoover in, ‘Surviving His Retirement’ perhaps for her story title? (yes, unbeknownst to him she was entering the competition too).
‘Can’t you do that later’ came a querulous voice, ‘a cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss.’
Cheryl turned up the radio and wrote: ‘How to murder your husband.’
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