28

Feb

by thefourpartland

There are things better left unsaid. There always have been. I’m certainly no different. I have things in my closet that I do not speak about openly. I think we all do. But given what is about to happen next, I think today is the time to speak of them.

When I was young and our family pets were old, I’d curse and shout at them for no longer being able to control themselves. They’d give me a sad look, like they wished they weren’t growing old, but they couldn’t do anything about it.

I wet the bed when I was older. For some reason, my bladder never stopped going in the night, and I had to hide it from everyone else. A little thing, but so embarrassing as a grown man.

I stole little things, here and there. They’d call out to me, speak to me, and I’d slip them in a pocket or under my shirt, and then be off with them. Nobody noticed, or at least I never got caught.

And well, there’s the reason I’m writing this. I slept with your wife. For years. And then I killed her and ate her. With barbecue sauce. Very tasty, if I may be so bold.

Anyway, that was what I wanted you to know.

Thanks again for being my friend all these years.

The end of the letter was splattered in blood.

21

Feb

by thefourpartland

Timothy struggled to bring the last of the boxes upstairs. There. He’d done it. The last of his belongings inside the house. He looked around and smiled. This was going to be a good house, a strong house. The piles of brown boxes took away from the charm somewhat, but it was his, his home.

The next few days were spent in unpacking, his belongings disappearing onto shelves, into closets, and under tables. And then the redecorating began. He should have done it earlier, before moving in, but he liked to see how his things would match up against the colours and styles he was choosing. His belongings were very precious to him, especially the ones that hung from the wall. He’d always been partial to a really nice wall hanging.

There was one final room to redo – the master bedroom. This was going to be his brilliant work of art, and Tim spent days going over the room with a pencil and ruler, dividing the walls up just how he wanted them to be. And then when he was done, he growled at the shoddy work he’d drawn in and took it all down. He was determined to get it right.

It was another week before Tim was finally satisfied, and he could begin with the base layer of paint. Getting the colour just right took him a while, but once he had, he stepped back and smiled. Then he tried a few of the wall hangings to see how it looked. Hmm. Lacking a certain something.

Timothy took them down again and painted a little more. There, that was it. The walls were covered properly now. Up went the hangings, each suspended from a noose about its neck. He left a blank spot above the bed. His wife would go there once the divorce was finalized.