A short story for a task I had to do about "The art of withholding information". The main purpose was to reveal as little as possible until the end, when you would let the ball drop. Mine isn't very good, but any feedback would be much appreciated. Thanks!


1. Trauma

Why? Why me? What did I do? It happened all at once, that painful sound of thunder, and then it became clear- I would never be the same again.

It all started when I finally realised what would happen. I would walk down a street, and BANG! Someone would magically appear, lying on the floor, dying. Their open wounds gushing blood at an insane rate, they scream in insatiable agony and then… gone. Gone.

Again, I would see her. She would not be dying this time, this time just sitting at the table. I always eat alone, and the thought of seeing her there, fork in hand, just staring at me… You can imagine the horror. She had her own meal, as though she had cooked it, although I always did the cooking since it happened. I won’t lie- I got take-aways at first, but at the end of the day you can’t live like that forever.

She was beautiful. That’s all I can remember. I loved her to the ends of the earth. But I can’t remember what it was about her. Looking back at the images, I could see it. But half the time, I’d not notice anything. Sometimes I wouldn’t even remember. I guess her hair, and the way it always fell perfectly, that might have been one reason. But why? It of course, reminds me of her. The other special girl in my life. She was beautiful, too. I remember everything about her; her birthdays, her dresses, the way she could never say the word because properly, always coming out sounding like “Kee-Kos,” or “Be-coooooos.” It was so cute.  And it again reminds me of… other things.

Like the time I woke up in a cold sweat at three in the morning. They were both there, lying next to me. But somehow they weren’t. I can’t remember anything else save for the policeman telling me what had happened. The neighbours called 999 because they couldn’t bear the screaming any longer.

It’s sad, really. The doctor had a word for it. I lost my wife and daughter in a traffic accident, and couldn’t bear the strain. I was nearly killed, too. But I got away with only a head injury.

I cannot even begin to describe this agony. My, my, whole world, fallen away, crumbling like amoretti and slipping away like a wisp of air. My life, my admittedly tedious livelihood, all gone with the wind like dust on a pencil. It is indescribable. I can only put it in perspective my recounting one final tale.

My wife was... Impossible. Impossible in so many ways. Impossibly beautiful. Impossibly funny. Impossibly-her. She was my everything. And watching her die every night, it’s… So…I can’t.                                               

Yes, that was it. That was what the doctor called it. Acute Schizophrenia.

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