'Flash!' Winter 2017

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: The Imaginarium


A short story written by Imaginarium House member, Sue Harris, inspired by Picture Prompt 33.



https://www.booksie.com/users/sue-harris-189638

Chapter 21 (v.1) - Fit For Purpose

Submitted: November 27, 2017

Reads: 26

Comments: 3

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Submitted: November 27, 2017

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IMAGINARIUM PICTURE PROMPT 33

 

FIT FOR PURPOSE written by Sue Harris.

The car was just what I had been looking for… perfectly preserved with its shiny chassis and the classic lines of yester-year. I open the door and lower myself into the comfort of the old leather driving seat, inhaling the nostalgic aroma of the interior. My eyes are drawn to the gleaming walnut dash-board with its chrome switches, and I decide there and then, it will be perfect for the purpose intended. To be honest, I have a penchant for everything vintage… my home is crammed with priceless antique pieces… I suppose I’m what they call a ‘hoarder’. My wife left me several years ago, said she could not compete with my adoration for antique ‘stuff’ and was no longer prepared to live with the all clutter. She found herself a toy-boy and subsequently moved into a modern, characterless box with him.

As a matter of fact, I was quite relieved when she walked out, he was welcome to her. Her constant nagging drove me crazy, as did her pre-occupation with her appearance, on which she spent a fortune trying to maintain. With all the toxins she had injected into her face, I barely recognised the woman I had married, so I had waved her off and wished her well with a grateful smile. That was six years ago.

I like living alone, it suits my personality… never having to consider or please anyone else. Although we had wanted children, in retrospect I’m thankful we never did. Things happen, or don’t in this case, for a reason.

I am interrupted from my reverie by the salesman. “You can take her for a test drive if you’d like.”

“No need, I’ll take it.” I follow him into the office to seal-the-deal.

I drive home, wallowing in the retro luxury of the limousine and parking it with pride on the driveway. Inside the house, I sit at my writing bureau and, using my favourite fountain pen, write two letters; one to my widowed sister, and another to my faithful cleaner.

When I have finished, I switch on the radio, and make myself a pot of tea. While I sip my tea from a fine bone-china teacup, listening to the magic of Tchaikovsky’s operatic masterpieces, a feeling of great peace and contentment washes over me. I then get changed into my best suit, normally reserved for weddings, christenings and funerals, pick up the car keys and set off on my adventure, stopping off at the post-box to post the letters.

I take the coastal road, which climbs high into the hills, then turn into a familiar track, leading to a coastal path along the cliff edge, a path I have trodden many times over the years, a favourite place of mine where I feel at one with nature. I switch off the engine and take in the stunning sunset over the shimmering sea. I am alone up here, but not lonely. My mind is made up… no more chemotherapy, no more suffering. This is where it all ends, in my beautiful chariot and on my terms. I release the hand-break, let her roll back, then switch on the engine, revving it to a scream before releasing the throttle… destination oblivion!
 

 


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