saswat_sahoo
06-09-2007, 04:44 AM
The revenge of Mr. Adam Colingbridge
In the beginning, he used to feel ashamed when he thought like that. Now he feels ashamed that he used to feel that way. This transition is not entirely his own doing. Mary's behavior has indeed changed a lot since the last week. She no longer waits for him when he returns from office at midnight. She doesn't seem to care to look her best when he's around. She talks on the phone for long hours, watches 'sex and the City' regularly and mentioned it once or twice that she should probably get a cellphone of her own. And yes, she sometimes (twice actually)forgot to kiss him goodbye. She's changed alright, sighed Mr. Adam Colingbridge. Thirty years of living by the rulebooks preceded by another twenty years of learning those rules gives a man enough maturity not to expect to see his wife waiting for him when he returns home at midnight, especially after thirty years of marriage. Probably a change in the order was long overdue. she's been acting out the part of a good housewife long enough, now she's showing her true colors. Or maybe she really been a good wife and just wants to spice up her life a bit. Maybe its because they never had any child. Maybe she's been always like this and he's noticing it now. He's noticing too much and too deep lately. Every new move she makes, every step she takes adds strenght to his conviction that Peter, the office clerk was telling the truth. Its like a jigsaw puzzle and he's cutting the missing pieces to complete the puzzle. The puzzle is not yet solved but it doesn't matter. He knows what the final picture would be like. He just has to cut the remaining pieces.
It all started two weeks ago when he overheard Peter saying to the office steno, Miss Collin that he's seen Mr. Colingbridge's wife sitting hand-in-hand with another man in a park. For the first time in his life, Mr. Adam felt betrayed. He felt as if all these days he has been carrying a dagger stabbed into his back and suddenly today he's feeling the pain. His senses grew numb, sweat trickled down his temples. He stood transfixed to the spot for some time not knowing how to react. Never had he imagined that one day it would come to this. He then collapsed into the nearest chair and sat with his face in his hands trying not to cry. Then it happened. The feeling of betrayal gave way to the need for revenge. Revenge seemed totally justified and warranted. He's been betrayed, his life shattered for no fault of his. all his life he's not done anything wrong that would warrant the pain he's experiencing now. Revenge, revenge, revenge - the words resonated in his mind and somehow helped ease his pain.
That day he returned home early. Mary was watching some romantic flick. He sat down at the opposite sofa. She seemed not to notice him, she was too busy watching the movie. He sat there motionless staring at her, trying to come to terms with the fact that beneath this seemingly beautiful innocent face lied such a cunning betrayer. He let his eyes follow the contour of her well carved body - her white skin, long legs, long black hair that smelt of roses, the dimple in her left cheek, the little brown patch on her left arm and the blue eyes that looked like a deep blue sea trapped in a magic crystal ball enchanting you to jump into its bottomless waters. Suddenly he realized something - he's always loved her very much. Yes, he loved her more than anything else in his life but never felt the need to show his love to her. After all she was his. His love was by default. Strange are the ways of life, today when he hates her so much does he realize how much he loved her. And perhaps this realization of his Love's lost labor strenghtened his crave for revenge.
The seeds of revenge that was sown last week has grown into a dense and dark tree whose roots have penetrated every capillary, every vein in his body. All things malicious grow fast they say and the growth in this case was aided by a week's holiday that he took to sit at home and observe her closely. And everything he observed seemed to corroborate to what he'd imagined the night before. He had the plan ready. Next week would be her last.
So, Mr. Adam Colingbridge sat alone on his bed contemplating upon the details of his plan. As he sat thus, he felt a slight prick on his left wrist. He looked to see where the interruption came from. It was a mosquito, a plump one by the standard of mosquitoes, sitting calmly with its proboscis (that needle like thing) dipped into the pore of his skin. Under normal circumstances, going by the rulebooks, he would've brought the mosquito's life to a sudden end by a slap of his right hand. But not today. Today was different, his rulebooks don't matter today. His belief in living life according to the rules seemed shattered.
He watched the tiny mosquito with interest. It reminded him of Mary. Maybe it too has been drinking his blood for some time, perhaps daily, and its now that he's realizing it. It amused him to see the mosquito draining his blood in absolute confidence of its act being unrevealed, unnoticed. The mosquito seemed too engrossed in its vile act to realize that the veil has long been lifted and its deed is for all to see. Maybe a slight movement of the hand or a puff of wind would break its single-minded devotion to the deceitful crime, but no, not even a single breath should alert the criminal lest it escapes out of the reach of justice and revenge. It deserved to be killed, but in full knowledge of the cause of its brutal death. Mr. Adam didn't want to miss the satisfaction of watching pure terror mingled with guilt in the face of his victim. The mosquito was no longer just a mosquito, it was Mary herself.
Mr. Adam let her continue, just as he had planned. He would then trap her in the act allowing her enough time to realize that her game of deceit was up, that she's been caught red-handed and perhaps let her repent in terror of her dreadful end. He wanted her to watch her death trod slowly, confidently towards her. He wanted her to die a thousand deaths before he ended it all. Then there's the law to be taken care of. He's planned it all - the time, place, occasion, everything. If everything works out smoothly according to his plan, the law wouldn't get a whiff of it all. Even if it somehow did, he had his case ready - a simple, faithful and loving husband killing his wife in a fit of rage upon discovering her secret affair. The case was simple and convincing. He's made sure of this.
Slowly and silently he put his thumb and middle finger on the two sides of the wrist between which the mosquito sat. He paused for a while fearing that the mosquito might fly away sensing danger. The mosquito however was oblivious to the surrounding being too engrossed in its work. Mr. Adam allowed himself a wicked smile and then stretched the skin suddenly with both his fingers in opposite directions so that the mosquito's proboscis was trapped in his skin. Caught, caught at last. He soaked in the sight of the mosquito kicking its legs and flapping its wings desperately trying to escape, not knowing what struck it. He let it struggle in vain and imagined how Mary, his beautiful Mary, would look. Would she struggle so much or give in to her fate soon, perhaps she would cry and ask for forgiveness or perhaps she would try to convince him of her innocence. Not that these mattered to him yet somehow he felt superior imagining Mary struggling such.
The mosquito slowly came to a standstill as if accepting its fate and waiting for the end, praying it comes soon. Seeing it give up so soon disappointed Mr. Adam. Anyway it was just a mosquito, surely Mary would last much longer. He then put his index finger softly on the exhausted mosquito taking care not to crush it. He wanted it to feel the burden of its crime till the weight becomes so unbearable that it would beg for deliverance. He let the pressure grow slowly. Then he pressed the finger down so that the mosquito was no more between the finger and his skin. It was now just a pulp of deceit and sin, its evil life ended in a just way. He got his revenge.
His mind thus at relative ease, Mr. Adam went to sleep and dreamed of that day next week when he would again experience the sweet taste of revenge.
A week later, there appeared a little piece in the obituary section of the local newspaper. It read as follows :
Adam Colingbridge, age 50 left for heavenly abode, on June 10,2006
He died of malaria.
He is survived by his beloved wife Mary Colingbridge.
As a thoughtful agricultural engineer he cared for the wildlife and the public waterways.
He also continued his Father's practice of fishing the River Lune for trout and salmon.
Adam created a magnificent garden, welcomed his friends on their rare visits and lived his happiest days with his wife Mary.
Born: 17-03-1956 Died:10-06-2006 in Claughton, Lancaster ,Great Britain.
May his soul rest in peace.
In the beginning, he used to feel ashamed when he thought like that. Now he feels ashamed that he used to feel that way. This transition is not entirely his own doing. Mary's behavior has indeed changed a lot since the last week. She no longer waits for him when he returns from office at midnight. She doesn't seem to care to look her best when he's around. She talks on the phone for long hours, watches 'sex and the City' regularly and mentioned it once or twice that she should probably get a cellphone of her own. And yes, she sometimes (twice actually)forgot to kiss him goodbye. She's changed alright, sighed Mr. Adam Colingbridge. Thirty years of living by the rulebooks preceded by another twenty years of learning those rules gives a man enough maturity not to expect to see his wife waiting for him when he returns home at midnight, especially after thirty years of marriage. Probably a change in the order was long overdue. she's been acting out the part of a good housewife long enough, now she's showing her true colors. Or maybe she really been a good wife and just wants to spice up her life a bit. Maybe its because they never had any child. Maybe she's been always like this and he's noticing it now. He's noticing too much and too deep lately. Every new move she makes, every step she takes adds strenght to his conviction that Peter, the office clerk was telling the truth. Its like a jigsaw puzzle and he's cutting the missing pieces to complete the puzzle. The puzzle is not yet solved but it doesn't matter. He knows what the final picture would be like. He just has to cut the remaining pieces.
It all started two weeks ago when he overheard Peter saying to the office steno, Miss Collin that he's seen Mr. Colingbridge's wife sitting hand-in-hand with another man in a park. For the first time in his life, Mr. Adam felt betrayed. He felt as if all these days he has been carrying a dagger stabbed into his back and suddenly today he's feeling the pain. His senses grew numb, sweat trickled down his temples. He stood transfixed to the spot for some time not knowing how to react. Never had he imagined that one day it would come to this. He then collapsed into the nearest chair and sat with his face in his hands trying not to cry. Then it happened. The feeling of betrayal gave way to the need for revenge. Revenge seemed totally justified and warranted. He's been betrayed, his life shattered for no fault of his. all his life he's not done anything wrong that would warrant the pain he's experiencing now. Revenge, revenge, revenge - the words resonated in his mind and somehow helped ease his pain.
That day he returned home early. Mary was watching some romantic flick. He sat down at the opposite sofa. She seemed not to notice him, she was too busy watching the movie. He sat there motionless staring at her, trying to come to terms with the fact that beneath this seemingly beautiful innocent face lied such a cunning betrayer. He let his eyes follow the contour of her well carved body - her white skin, long legs, long black hair that smelt of roses, the dimple in her left cheek, the little brown patch on her left arm and the blue eyes that looked like a deep blue sea trapped in a magic crystal ball enchanting you to jump into its bottomless waters. Suddenly he realized something - he's always loved her very much. Yes, he loved her more than anything else in his life but never felt the need to show his love to her. After all she was his. His love was by default. Strange are the ways of life, today when he hates her so much does he realize how much he loved her. And perhaps this realization of his Love's lost labor strenghtened his crave for revenge.
The seeds of revenge that was sown last week has grown into a dense and dark tree whose roots have penetrated every capillary, every vein in his body. All things malicious grow fast they say and the growth in this case was aided by a week's holiday that he took to sit at home and observe her closely. And everything he observed seemed to corroborate to what he'd imagined the night before. He had the plan ready. Next week would be her last.
So, Mr. Adam Colingbridge sat alone on his bed contemplating upon the details of his plan. As he sat thus, he felt a slight prick on his left wrist. He looked to see where the interruption came from. It was a mosquito, a plump one by the standard of mosquitoes, sitting calmly with its proboscis (that needle like thing) dipped into the pore of his skin. Under normal circumstances, going by the rulebooks, he would've brought the mosquito's life to a sudden end by a slap of his right hand. But not today. Today was different, his rulebooks don't matter today. His belief in living life according to the rules seemed shattered.
He watched the tiny mosquito with interest. It reminded him of Mary. Maybe it too has been drinking his blood for some time, perhaps daily, and its now that he's realizing it. It amused him to see the mosquito draining his blood in absolute confidence of its act being unrevealed, unnoticed. The mosquito seemed too engrossed in its vile act to realize that the veil has long been lifted and its deed is for all to see. Maybe a slight movement of the hand or a puff of wind would break its single-minded devotion to the deceitful crime, but no, not even a single breath should alert the criminal lest it escapes out of the reach of justice and revenge. It deserved to be killed, but in full knowledge of the cause of its brutal death. Mr. Adam didn't want to miss the satisfaction of watching pure terror mingled with guilt in the face of his victim. The mosquito was no longer just a mosquito, it was Mary herself.
Mr. Adam let her continue, just as he had planned. He would then trap her in the act allowing her enough time to realize that her game of deceit was up, that she's been caught red-handed and perhaps let her repent in terror of her dreadful end. He wanted her to watch her death trod slowly, confidently towards her. He wanted her to die a thousand deaths before he ended it all. Then there's the law to be taken care of. He's planned it all - the time, place, occasion, everything. If everything works out smoothly according to his plan, the law wouldn't get a whiff of it all. Even if it somehow did, he had his case ready - a simple, faithful and loving husband killing his wife in a fit of rage upon discovering her secret affair. The case was simple and convincing. He's made sure of this.
Slowly and silently he put his thumb and middle finger on the two sides of the wrist between which the mosquito sat. He paused for a while fearing that the mosquito might fly away sensing danger. The mosquito however was oblivious to the surrounding being too engrossed in its work. Mr. Adam allowed himself a wicked smile and then stretched the skin suddenly with both his fingers in opposite directions so that the mosquito's proboscis was trapped in his skin. Caught, caught at last. He soaked in the sight of the mosquito kicking its legs and flapping its wings desperately trying to escape, not knowing what struck it. He let it struggle in vain and imagined how Mary, his beautiful Mary, would look. Would she struggle so much or give in to her fate soon, perhaps she would cry and ask for forgiveness or perhaps she would try to convince him of her innocence. Not that these mattered to him yet somehow he felt superior imagining Mary struggling such.
The mosquito slowly came to a standstill as if accepting its fate and waiting for the end, praying it comes soon. Seeing it give up so soon disappointed Mr. Adam. Anyway it was just a mosquito, surely Mary would last much longer. He then put his index finger softly on the exhausted mosquito taking care not to crush it. He wanted it to feel the burden of its crime till the weight becomes so unbearable that it would beg for deliverance. He let the pressure grow slowly. Then he pressed the finger down so that the mosquito was no more between the finger and his skin. It was now just a pulp of deceit and sin, its evil life ended in a just way. He got his revenge.
His mind thus at relative ease, Mr. Adam went to sleep and dreamed of that day next week when he would again experience the sweet taste of revenge.
A week later, there appeared a little piece in the obituary section of the local newspaper. It read as follows :
Adam Colingbridge, age 50 left for heavenly abode, on June 10,2006
He died of malaria.
He is survived by his beloved wife Mary Colingbridge.
As a thoughtful agricultural engineer he cared for the wildlife and the public waterways.
He also continued his Father's practice of fishing the River Lune for trout and salmon.
Adam created a magnificent garden, welcomed his friends on their rare visits and lived his happiest days with his wife Mary.
Born: 17-03-1956 Died:10-06-2006 in Claughton, Lancaster ,Great Britain.
May his soul rest in peace.