Martha's Plight

Reads: 100  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
Martha was just a lonely old woman getting closer to death as the days fluttered by, that was until everything changed.

Submitted: November 09, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 09, 2011

A A A

A A A


Martin couldn't stand it anymore, it just had to go. How many times had he threatned
her he would get rid of it, if she wouldn't. "Im telling you Martha that was my last warning, dont tempt me now you hear!". The face of the old man snarled at her as he glared.
Marta was a kind old woman, the sort you would help bring the shopping home for,
or see while at the bingo. She had been married to Martin for twenty four years and they
had their 25th avivesary coming up.

That wasnt to say it was the happiest years of Martha's life.
She met him in her mid-forthies when her old marriage started to break down, she
never fully recovered from it and when Martin showed up she gave her love to him.
Clinging to any source of affection she could find, she embraced Martin's offers of love
and affection and before long they were happily married couple, with their lives ahead of them.

She had only bought the kitten last week on her way to the bingo. She felt the want to break free of her 'old age' on most of her trips. She hated the way socitiy changed their perception of you when you reach old age. The idea that you can go from a hardworking contributer to socitiy, to a senile old woman that needs patronising with offers of help within a few years. It felt as though in people's opinon all your achievements in life were now worthless and they see you as if you revert into babyhood. All your good for now is pushing about on wheelchairs and reading the same old stories over and over again.

She had named the kitten 'Kiaa', a name she found to remind her faintly as something
akin to Egypt or Africa, yes Africa would suit it. Big tigers and little kittens would fit
together quite happily in Martha's inner-imagination, a place she felt she could get away
from it all, a place to be herself.
Kiaa had just recently scratched the leg of a late-peroid finely decorated Victorian antique settee.
The claw marks were quite visibly etched into the tightly woven beige material.
"This is the end of it" muttered Martin as he grabbed the kittens fur from behind and
tugged it into the air.

"Dont you dare!" screched Marta, her eyes widening in disbelief.
"I told you too many times already, its just too late!". Martin marched to the back door
of the cottage where the faint lights of the distant town glittered on the horizon. The dark rain pouring down on the roof overhead. He tore the door open and tossed the small creature
into the night.

Its screeches could be hear quite clearly despite the drum of the raindrops.
Martha dropped to her knees and burst into tears, The fraglie creature was her only
source of love or affection left to her in the world. Her family was long since past
away and her only relatives live in the big cities and only seem to forget to visit.
Marta never had any children herself, she always felt it wasn't the right time until the
right time could never come. Maybe the little kitten was akin to Marta's child in her own mind.

Martha was done with this. She didnt deserve to have lived her life working hard and not having more than one lousy holiday a year. Made to spend her actual life left on this planet, actual time left alive to work 9 hours a day for someone else so they can make a profit off her. All that just lay down and die. All she gets is a few years where she does not need to work but is too old and fraglie to go anywhere or spend her hard earned money. All she has left to do is sit by the fire and think of fond old memories.
Then something snapped. The machine had stopped turning. Her mind broke.

The old lady slowely pulled herself up from the persian rug ,its cuffs of the highest quality.
Her tears were no more. She brushed past her husband and her hand reached upon a dirty
desert fork that lay near the sink. She brought it down upon his neck in one
quick motion, its tips slicing through his flesh as it did upon the mint ice-cream not
over two hours ago. Martin's eyes widened madly and he grunted loudly as it happened.

Martha always assumed it would be more of a high pitched squeal. When he collapsed
to the ground a few seconds later, she stepped over him while wearing a blank face.
Her days of emotion were over, she couldn't stand living in a world knowing that it had been leached from her by people like this that drain on her remaining time she could
spend being happy. She reached the toolshed at the end of the garden, her bed-clothes
drenched now from the raging storm.

Inside, Martin had just regained conscious. He hadn't been knocked out like that
since his time in the Varsity team in his early Twenties. Now nearly Seventy years
of age, his old sports trophies now a collection adorning the sitting room.
It was a very old style cottage, one you could imagine a dectective to live in. One where
he would stash his pistol in the top drawer of his oak office table.

The blood was pooling on the rug beneath Martin, the desert fork lay
to his side. After his college sporting activites days Martin became a executive
at a high ranking accounting firm and from then on it was promotion after promotion.
He had a good life and over time money became less important to him than friends
and family and that is when he met Marta. He met her at a bar one night after a long shift
in the office.

He learned of her divorce and instantly felt a deep sadness for her, in that sadness came love and eventually they moved in with each other. That was the happiest period of Martin's life and from then on only came sadness once more. Disease riddled his close family, it was heridity that is what the doctors said.
If he didn't get an operation he might die too, something to do with the heart. Martin didn't even want to throw the kitten out, it was just things got to him more now at
this age, little annoyances constantly irrating him. He knew he was a bitter old man.
That didn't mean he necessarily liked it.

Eventually Marta's shadow cast across the open doorway, the rain still pouring
down from the heavens. Weird for this time of October, really.
Trailing behind grasped in her freckled hand was a cast-iron hacksaw, its edges
corroded away by the uncaring decades. She knelt down beside him leaving
herself slightly winded, her wet clothes clinging to her body.

As the cold blade touched Martin's foot another whimper came from
his mouth, he didn't understand why this was happening. She started to move the
blade side to side and eventually with a dull squishing sound it penetrated the skin.
As she hacked away silently at her husbands foot he howled in pain and disbelief.
He had initially believed it to be all just a little argument but no, not this. This couldn't be reality.

The saw became still yet again. Martin's foot lay abreast the blood-drenched rug, it's
fur in clumps and matted together. Martha's face was spotted with blood, her arms were
covered in the warm liquid. She was nervous at the fact she had actually went
though with it. All those fantasies and day dreams had actually came true, they had excaped from her mind and became reality. She had passed the line of no return, and yet she didnt care.

As she reached again for the desert fork, Martin's hand darted out just before she could clench it.
He drove it through her out-streched hand, glancing off her wedding ring and
entering deep into her fingertips. She roared in pain and swung at him with her other hand until his grip on the knife faltered. Then she reached around for the hacksaw and swiftly slashed at Martin's neck blindly again and again. He slumpt to the ground with his eyes in shock yet again. When Martin closed his eyes it was for all eternity.

Martin's life passed on un-remembered into the afterlife, no-one to miss him, his existence
but a distant memory to be forgotten by history and the passage of time.
Marta sat beside him, Kiaa the kitten crawling up beside her drenched from the
nights rains, diluting blood where she trod. " I think its about I started living my life "
muttered Martha as she stroked Kiaa, painting her in a watery blood. Kiaa merely purred in response.
Martha stared out into the dark night.
And she smiled.





http://www.neongame.com

"Join us and you can get a dirty desert fork too"


Wayne Daly


© Copyright 2017 neongame. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

More Thrillers Short Stories