by Margaret Sagri
“Where are we going?” Cheryl asked as she got into the car.
“Hey, it wouldn’t be a birthday surprise if I tell you.”
Conversation was rare as we both settled into our own thoughts during the ride.
“Oh my God!” Cheryl exclaimed as I stopped the car.
“Surprise, surprise,” I said, grabbing her hand to lead her towards the hot-air balloon which stood majestically before us.
Our pilot greeted us with firm handshakes before helping us into the basket.
We gained height rapidly. Taking a bottle of champagne from my bag, I popped the cork and filled two glasses.
“Cheers,” simultaneously we knocked back the champagne in one gulp.
After refilling our glasses, I reached down for the package I’d brought along.
“Darling, it’s time to open your present.”
I studied her face as she gingerly unwrapped the painting.
Her eyes shot up to meet mine.
“It’s from that young artist who owns a gallery in town.” I fixed my eyes on hers. “Shall we toast your liaison with him.” I didn’t recognize my own voice.
Throwing my glass overboard I grabbed her shoulders as she tried to turn away. Her screams pierced the air as her body tilted perilously over the edge.
“What the fuck’s going on!”
The blow on the back of my head came hard. Silence.
Staggering, I pitched forward, plunging head-first into mid-air.
4 comments:
Ooohh, Margaret, once more the dark side emerges. What seemed like a joyful outing at the start quickly changed to a violent death. Well written.
Thanks, Bruce. Well, the outing didn't quite end the way he had planned it!
Poor chap.
She screwed someone else to screw with him, then got him screwed with the help of someone else else.
Poor chap.
:)
Aniket - yes, poor chap all right! But she didn't ask to be taken for a ride, did she? ;-)
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