The internovella - Part 3

That salmon, about to lurch over a weir - look in his eye, meaning beat it or die worried me.
He had the Sabattier in his hand and was rolling his forefingers along the blade, up and down - down and up. After a while I could see blood running down his fingers - where he had taken too many skin scales away. He turned towards me - sharpened steeel in hand - "Shall we go to the pictures tomorrow? They have that lovely french film on that I was mezmerised by when I was a boy, The Red Baloon. No words just a caressing camera". She thought for a minute or two and replied, "No, I am weary of life at the moment". Those were the last words that this innocent maid ever said for at that moment the Sabatier was dug deep into her skull, in the soft spot - throug her left eye, and the eye bled and part of her brain ran out of her retina.

Why oh why, dear reader, I obesrved that he had a curled up smirk on his face? He sat on the old armchair and watched her die - his vengance for a lifetime of what? Love, churlishness, adultery, forgiven, but the scars remained, biting sarcasm, and cruelty by mouth and deed. All of those but the article that caused the final thrust was a deeply offensive remark - a remark - a double inswinger that was an outswinger that was so offensive that his adrenalin ran wild - manslaghter would be the charge for in no way was it pre-meditated murder.
He rang 999 and said, "I have just killed my wife". But 999 said to him, "We cannot take your call at this moment" - and played Vivaldi for him for the next twenty minites, whilst the blood drained out of her body - she thought of Michael and Carrina - her two children, 5 and 7, laughing at the halon filled ballon. The RED BALLOON - and then for a while there was darkness

GB