Doctor Omega
11-03-2016, 03:42 PM
She wheeled him along the top of the craggy white cliffs.
It was a beautiful day.
She breathed in the air and admired the sun hiding behind the clouds in the distance.
He was ninety.
She was forty five.
They had driven here, all the way from his sprawling mansion.
The ink was still drying at home on the altered will.
The witness was barely clinging to life as it was. Silly old Mrs Ratwell, his housekeeper.
They parked on a precipice overlooking the beautiful view.
She went to undo his break on the wheelchair, but could not resist gloating first.
"There's something I have to tell you."
He pulled the blanket closer to himself and spoke, unusually loudly for him.
"Me too, my dear!"
She heard the sound behind her too late and barely caught a glimpse of Mrs Ratwell, in her silent slippers, and cold, silent, icy subterfuge, swinging the walking stick towards her and, by then, Sandra was fighting a losing battle against brutal gravity, her true nemesis.
Mrs Ratwell went up behind the old man and cuddled his shoulders from behind.
He smiled.
"Thankyou my dear."
She said no more and moved away. Someone would spot him there and he could emote as dramatically as they planned.
Then she would see him back at home later, when he was returned to her.
Their home.
THE END
It was a beautiful day.
She breathed in the air and admired the sun hiding behind the clouds in the distance.
He was ninety.
She was forty five.
They had driven here, all the way from his sprawling mansion.
The ink was still drying at home on the altered will.
The witness was barely clinging to life as it was. Silly old Mrs Ratwell, his housekeeper.
They parked on a precipice overlooking the beautiful view.
She went to undo his break on the wheelchair, but could not resist gloating first.
"There's something I have to tell you."
He pulled the blanket closer to himself and spoke, unusually loudly for him.
"Me too, my dear!"
She heard the sound behind her too late and barely caught a glimpse of Mrs Ratwell, in her silent slippers, and cold, silent, icy subterfuge, swinging the walking stick towards her and, by then, Sandra was fighting a losing battle against brutal gravity, her true nemesis.
Mrs Ratwell went up behind the old man and cuddled his shoulders from behind.
He smiled.
"Thankyou my dear."
She said no more and moved away. Someone would spot him there and he could emote as dramatically as they planned.
Then she would see him back at home later, when he was returned to her.
Their home.
THE END