Poem Stained Fingertips

"I may have poem stained fingertips but I have a tongue coated with a thousand pins of silence."
A refillable book of every idea and scrap that I can come up with. This will include everything from poems, short stories, metaphors and microfiction.
AKA: a fancier name than the actual word document (Bits and Bobs)

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34. So Slowly - Microfiction

 

A woman washed up on shore in a half-burned nightdress. In between choked sobs, she told a tale of horror to the police.

She and her husband had been out on their yacht when they were attacked. They set fire to the yacht and she barely escaped with her life. “It all happened so slowly,” she said, in contrast to it happened so fast, “They came aboard like pirates in scream masks and they demanded all of our money.” She cradled her hands gently where her ring finger lay bare and pale. “We gave it to them, but they covered the deck with gasoline anyway.”

The police asked her how she had escaped, and she wove a story of fortune and god’s eyes on her. She kissed her husband as he told her to run and she dived and swam as fast as she could.

The police let her go with a promise of finding her husband’s killers.

 

She retreated back to the shore in clean clothes and from her bra she brought out a single piece of paper. It contained the final words her husband had written.

She folded it into a paper boat, the words hidden in the creases, but she knew what they were.

 

Marie, I love you. Marrying Alice was a mistake. I’ll find you after our honeymoon.

 

Marie would never get to see him. Alice had thrown her ring into the water and carried gasoline as her weapon of revenge.

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