By Jude Dexter
There were people inside my walls.
I know they were there because I heard them: a woman weeping, begging forgiveness; a man, voice always stern like my husband’s, whispering to shut up. They sounded like they had been fighting for a century. Her cries would keep me awake all night.
My husband tried to shut them up once and for all, but threats only seemed to anger them. The voices that night were so full of wrath.
My husband is dead now. The voices finally got sick of him too. After, the voices sounded happy and stopped talking. I slept soundly.
Loved these 101 words. Well done!
Apartment living at it’s finest! Well done.
The subtext and story-within-a-story is fantastic. Great job!
A parallel situation, or voices in her head? Sets up interesting questions in a compressed form.
I suspect a victim of domestic abuse now is free of terror and pain. Well written.