And You’re Not Afraid

19 10 2008

I revised this old story to make it more fun. The original felt flat. The above pic has nothing to do with the story but with the conspiracy to kill Lincoln. A story I am working on.


“And you’re not afraid?” Mrs. Newton said as she sat up on the bench in the doctor’s office. She removed her blouse and threw it over the chair next to her. The blouse filled out like a sail. The bright sharp point of the chair seemed to pierce the shoulder. Mrs. Newton grimaced.

“Should I be?” the doctor asked. He placed the stethoscope on her back. It could have been a knife. It could have been an attack. Revenge for some affront.

“My husband is a very powerful man.” Mrs. Newton swallowed her words. Her breathing became shallow. She could feel her blood drooling down her back.

“He’s a bully. Breath deeply, Mrs. Newton.” The doctor moved the stethoscope around her back. He placed his hand on her shoulder. His finger touched her bra strap.

Mrs. Newton glanced at his finger. The nails were long. And sharp.

“You should know that my husband can be very jealous. What a temper he has. We have holes all over our house where his anger has been written. Do you have a temper, doctor?”

The doctor shook his head. He took a light and shone it in her ear. Mrs. Newton tried not to move. The thought of the light’s pointed prick sent a shiver down her spine. The doctor took a small hammer out of a drawer and tapped lightly on Mrs. Newton’s knee. Her knee did not move. Why didn’t she scream out for help. Her words caught in her throat. She thought she was going to gag on the t’s.

“Your husband tells me that you’re addicted to shopping.”

“I’m bored. You’ve got to do something.” Panic began to rise. Mrs. Newton wondered what her husband could possibly have said to the doctor. And why. If he asks me if I’ve had my flu shot I’m going to say yes.

“Take up a hobby.”

“Any suggestions?”

“Take up bridge, Mrs. Newton.”

Mrs. Newton shook her head. Does he think I’m going to fall for that one?

“I’m not very good at cards. And I love to win. It’s a bad combination.”

The doctor smirked. There was a glint in his eye. Sharp. Like a scalpel.

“I like things that are more physically active.” Mrs. Newton licked her lips. Her mouth was dry. His breath was bad. Like a dog’s.

The doctor tapped his finger on Mrs. Newton’s shoulder. She shuddered. She looked at the doctor. He had such sharp teeth. And his mouth. Was so large.

“Lie down on the bench,” the doctor asked. “On your stomach.”

Mrs. Newton did as she was told. And closed her eyes.

The doctor turned to lock the door.



One response

11 09 2018
David Halliday

Reblogged this on Old Favourites.

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