FaceFic

A sound wakes you from your slumber, it wasn’t a normal sound for your house. Quietly, you get out of bed and fumble in the dark for your slippers and your old squash racquet (kept close for such occasions). You move silently down the hall, a little nervously. Your heart is making enough noise to fill a stadium as you round the corner… to see your partner at the fridge, holding the ice cream bucket and spoon close.

Blood drips onto the snow leaving bright red welts. Laboured breathing gropes the frigid air. The crisp white is torn by two sets of ragged footprints ending in a crumpled mass. “Come on husband, get up!” the woman wails, her voice broken beyond tears. On her knees, she tugs at his clothing and beats at his shoulders; her hands too cold to close into fists. The snow swallows her moans, and the hounds are closing in.

The mighty huntress spies her prey in the distance. She watches – waits. Choosing her moment she closes in, with stealthily sinuous steps, so as not to alert other nearby predators to her find. Negotiating the terrain with swift precision, she makes her move with practiced deliberation, skillfully taking down the sitting target and dragging it off. The hunt ended, the victorious roar issues forth: “Woo Hoo! 50% Off!”

He speaks quietly as he packs in the morning. “I hate going in every day. It’s not just the job; it’s the people as well. Stupidity is rampant, I am stunned some of them got out of school, let alone gained honest employment. After five minutes talking to them, you wonder how long it takes to choke someone to death”. Realising the bag is full he slips a last clip into his pocket. “I think today will be better though”.

He cackled as his minions loaded the trebuchet. This time he would have a wall out of their fort, and victory would certainly follow as his infantry pressed home the advantage. He gave the signal and the bucket dropped, the missiles swung up and released neatly, sailing toward their target. As the payload toppled the wall onto them, girls screamed, then giggled as their brothers ran in, showering them with snowballs.

It’s the waiting that’s the worst part… sitting here, knowing that events are happening outside of my control, and that these things are working towards my eventual downfall. I try to do my best – to fight and win the battles I can, but there are too many I have to yield. And every time I do, my enemies have new ammunition – another reason. A quiet knock at the door. “Mr President? The press are ready for you now.”

Pigs? Eventually we’ll hear about a cute but infected and illegally imported Capuchin monkey. Then we’ll see Dustin Hoffman on the news, coming out of a CDC field hospital in a biohazard suit, forcing people into quarantine and trying to maintain calm whilst heroically uncovering a US Govt conspiracy to keep the virus and its antidote a secret so that they might make unconscionable use of it as a biological weapon…

She awakens. Lifts her sleep heavy legs out of bed. Shoulder still hurts from swinging the mallet. Slippers, gown, down to the kitchen. Her old face careworn, gentle hands reach past His special cup for her own. Boil kettle. His preference: Russian Caravan. She pours herself a Lady Grey. His empty chair still lies overturned on the linoleum. She rights it, sits down. Sips, smiles. Wonders where she will put his body.