Billet 4 - Courte Nouvelle

Écrire demande aussi de partager ce que l'on fait. J'ai très peur de partager ce que j'écris parce que j'ai peur des commentaires et ça fait partie de l'expérience en rédaction. Une partie de moi aime écrire des billets de blogue informant les gens sur un produit ou recommander un nouveau café en ville. Cependant, il y a aussi ce côté de moi qui écrit plutôt des courtes nouvelles et des poèmes pour exprimer comment je me sens. Des fois, il est plus facile d'écrire que de parler, donc pour ce billet, je vous partage une courte histoire que j'ai écrit quand je voulais travailler sur ma créativité. Je commence toujours par rédiger des phrases au hasard et dépendamment de ce qui en sort, j'écris autour de ces lignes-là!

Short Story without a title: 

We argue all the time.

His is always nagging, always complaining.  “You should dress like this” or “you should put more makeup”, he comments are always sharp like a knife. At first, it really did hit me hard. I felt helpless and defeated by his voice. But, I loved him so much and I knew something needed to be done. I was willing to do anything to save what was left of us.

I had to fix this loud voice coming from him and the voiceless me. To do so, I planned a beautiful getaway a few hours away from home. It was a well-known forest for expert campers. The brochure said it had a beautiful and clear creek where lovers could swim and bond through nature. I was ecstatic over the idea of him and I embracing each other, accepting our love and will to work on it.

“Honey, I would like to thank you for coming along with me. You don’t even know of much it means to me.” I said shyly as we made our way to our destination.

“I did not want to come. You literally forced me into the car and beg me to drive”, he said, without any emotion in his voice.

I sank in my chair, hoping his attitude would change once we arrived at the site. As we made it, he began setting up our tent.  The silence between us might not be killing him, but it did to me. “Honey, would you like to go for a swim. You see the brochure recommends this creek and it is very popular.” I ask him, hoping for a positive response.

“hum…how about I set this tent and you leave me alone?”, he sharply said to me. I shook my head in denial and once again, begged him to do something with be.

“okay, I’ll go, but you have to promise me that you will leave me alone after your creek thing.” I nodded and jump of excitement. Finally, we were about to spend time together.

As we began our walk, he began nagging about how he did not want to go for a swim. He was rambling about a certain Veronica and how I should be more like her. I do not know any Veronica. I felt hurt, but more than that, I felt annoyed. Annoyed by his voice, annoyed by his infinite list of complains about me, annoyed by his lack of love. Where did we go wrong?

“What a funny question. I would like to ask you the same because I think I still do my part in this marriage. You are the one who stopped talking to me. You are the one who is always at home doing nothing as I go to work to provide for us. You are the one who tries to touch me when I obviously am to spend to have sex.”

I guess I ask at loud and he gave me my answer. I looked at the ground, ashamed by his comments. I just wanted to be loved. I had to have a clear conscience and a confirmation that it was over, so I ask

“Are you seeing someone else?”

For the first time in weeks, he looked me in the eyes and I wished I could have seen a fraction of guilt. I saw nothing. I just got a simple and clear “yes”.

My heart, my poor heart was crutched in tiny little pieces in a matter of seconds. I stopped walking and my world stopped. So, did his, because he stumbled upon a rock and fell. He began swearing and screaming about how mad he was.

He was mad. So was I.

He was furious. So was I.

He was loud, and I wanted quiet.

His voice was once again resounding in the trees and mine was nonexistent.

He nags all the time. The constant noise coming out of his mouth is irritating. We argue all the time. It never stops.

“Please, be quiet. You are being loud again,” I gently asked him. But he did not have it. He was boiling out of anger “You took me here. You forced to come here because you thought our marriage could be fixed. Listen to me, I will only say it once, I do not care anymore.” And neither did I.

I did not blink or though twice, I took the rock he stumbled upon and hit him on the head once. Then twice, and I lost count how many times I hit and hit once more. The crushing sound of his skull brought comfort and an odd satisfaction.

I smirk as I look upon what was left of his head. No more mouth to talk about or to kiss his new lover. No more brain to think about and especially no face to miss about.

I tenderly smiled at him, forever silenced.

Lastly, I had quiet.

Lastly, I had fixed the problem.