This week I am almost late with my Flash-Fiction plucked* from a selection of Inspiration Monday prompts. I chose “The Noise of Ideas” this week. Check out the link below for other prompts and some great writing.
The Noise of Ideas
She couldn’t stand the silence. It was bleak and reminded her of the past. Pain echoed from the long-ago times she hoped one day to forget. She thought of the things she should tell him: “The car wouldn’t start this morning”, “Mrs Chandler got locked out in the rain yesterday evening”, “Would you like pasta for dinner?” Ideas flooded her mind, none were appropriate. None of these ridiculous commentaries on the norm would fill the space inside her that ached desperately for him now that she knew there was nothing left. She tried to accept the silence, to allow it to hang thickly in the air, but now the noise of ideas would not go away. She would have to say something, anything.
“Is that a new pair of shoes? I like them, they suit you.”
He was so still. His eyes bored into her soul shattering all that was left of her.
“I just don’t think I can do this anymore.” she said, pushing herself up off the old-fashioned floral arm-chair.
“How could it happen this way? It wasn’t supposed to happen this way!”
She stopped screaming, suddenly shocked by the violence of her own outburst. The silence threatened to fill the space between them again. She stared, taking in every fine line on his increasingly colourless features. He always lost colour when he was angry. He was the opposite of so many men in that way. In so many other ways too, but she would not dwell on those now. She had loved that face so completely that she had stopped thinking of herself for years. It had been so long that she almost had no idea what to do next. But she had a plan. She needed a small victory to call her own and she was so close now to achieving her goal.
She turned her back on his motionless form and walked determinedly into the kitchen to collect the black plastic refuse sacks and rubber gloves. It would soon be light and there was work to be done.
[Writing prompt taken, with thanks, from: http://bekindrewrite.net/2012/01/30/inspiration-monday-the-noise-of-ideas/ ]
* I love the word “plucked” – isn’t there something quite satisfying about it? Perhaps it is just me…
hugmore 
What happens next? I want to find out!
What do you think?
What is in the trash; phone numbers, notes to someone else, or…
Blessings – Maxi
I couldn’t possibly comment 😉
The trash collectors are in for a surprise! Oh, the gore is about to start! Well done! I suspected we might be heading there – ‘he was so still’ – ‘increasingly colourless features’ – and this is her small victory.
‘Plucked’ is a good word – almost onomatopoeic
Oh yes! 😉 I tried to introduce it slowly so it wasn’t too obvious but more gently menacing.
Thanks for stopping by and taking time to add comments.
Oooooh shit. Serves me right for making assumptions about where a story was going. but then on a second reading the hints pop up, and you realize the what the outburst means (or may mean, I mean, hahaha) pretty masterful writing.
Excellent, very pleased to have surprised you! Thanks for the great comments and for once again taking time to read my little scribblings.
Oh my. Is he….is she…???
I agree, “plucked” is a lovely word.
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I suspect there’ll be a visit from CSI soon.
I’m sure she’ll manage to cover up all evidence. In fact, as I thought about it some more, I realised that her few neighbours would also support her. The jury would clearly end up finding her: “Not guilty”. 😉
Wow. I didn’t see that coming at all. I actually missed it until I read the comments.