A literary piece (unreal) sent in by a student of the University of Lagos;
I miss the feeling of your warm embrace, your smile, your playful way of talking to me and just the fact you aren’t around always leaves me in tears.
I stand here in front of your grave reading the intricate writing of your epitaph, as I do every last day of the month.
“In memory of a loving and deserving sister, daughter and wife…”I had chosen this words when the priest asked what I wanted him to give the stone cutter for her tombstone. Her family had been surprised at the words, expecting more from me especially since I had an occupation as a writer.
For the most part Sandra was a very loving wife, even though we had our little squabbles now and then we always made up and never ended nothing in short of being back in each others arms at the end of the night. We made love at most times every opportunity we got, which was a lot. She was excellent in bed and I can say I was shortly behind.
All that changed when I became a bestseller, with all the press conferences and book signings, I and Sandra became more distant from each other than ever. I would hardly come home during the week and hardly ever talked to her when I did. we stopped having sex as frequents as before and soon enough we stopped having sex at all.
Then everything went downhill.
At first I had my suspicions that Sandra was sleeping with other men but mad no racket. I simply just got “a guy’ to start monitoring her movements, from the ‘late nights at the office’ to the ‘business trips’ and soon i discovered that my wife was sleeping with a bloke named Tobi.
Upon the discovery of this information i still kept my calm and waited for the right choice, it soon presented itself. I installed a hidden video camera that would run throughout the period I was gone on my trips, soon enough I came back to find some activity.
To make this interesting I slotted the tape in while we were watching tv in the night and watched her as she broke down in tears and started begging me stating that it wasn’t her fault, adding something about being lonely and asking for forgiveness.
I simply just stood up and left the house laughing about my mischievousness. To make matters simple I didn’t rush the murder, I simply just got my ‘guy’ to hook the air conditioning in her car to a carbon monoxide tank. She ended her miserable life by crashing into a tree.
Her bloke quickly slumped into depression ad took up alcoholism which made my job easier. This time I personally followed his movements and got to know where he always drinks, it was just a matter of putting a little arsenic in his drink and watching him die in the parking lot some moments later.
Now I stand in front of her grave with a gun in my hand and a cyanide pill in my other hand, brooding over which method to take my life, I have cut my inheritance in two, half to Sandra’s family and the other half to my ‘guy’ for a job well done. And I’ve finally decided that I am going to use the cyanide, I dilute it in a shot of tequila which i brought with me and take a final shot.