random prompts & excerpts

Prompt 2: Dead Roses

Inspiration: Eastenders

Chantelle & Gray Atkins

Type: Descriptive/Narrative

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Where should the line be drawn? If speaking up only proves to be a death sentence?

Talking sweetly and quietly to one another, the couple were deep in conversation at the local community centre. Today was the day. Chantelle's entry into a hairdressing assessment landed her an opportunity to partake in a competition. She was counting down the days, cutting and styling hair was something she was passionate about.

As the host for the competition walked up to Chantelle to greet her, Gray steps in to introduce himself, like he wasn't already standing next to and in front of his wife. 

"Chantelle? It's good to see you-" The host was immediately cut off.

"I'm Gray, Chantelle's husband." Interrupting him, Gray flashes a charming smirk. From the get-go, his possession was almost obvious.

"Listen, good luck! I'm sure the judges today will be just as impressed with you as I was." The man looked directly at Chantelle and only glanced over at her husband once as he spoke.

When he had walked away, Gray turned around, pecking his wife on the lips and wishing her good luck.

He was about to leave, but stopped himself.

"Oh and um-" Turning around on his heel, he continued, "Hurry home, yeah? I'm cooking your favourite for dinner." Disguised as a kind, loving gesture, Gray smiled, this was his way of laying down some ground work.

"Oooh thanks." Chantelle mumbled with a grin, giving him a kiss. Her nerves were all over the place regarding this competition, it was like an adrenaline.

The couple exchanged 'I love yous', before parting ways. 

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Cold, dark and quiet, the house emanated silence. Gray's footsteps echoed on the laminated wooden floor, and as he walked through the living room, they were deafened by soft carpet. Setting the table, the plates and cutlery clattered gently as they were placed in the dining area. To complete the setting, small tea lights decorated the table like stars in the night sky, the beautiful bouquet of baby pink roses caressed the atmosphere of the room, giving it a romantic touch. And finally, a bucket of ice hugged the expensive white wine bottle. 

Dinner was served, but his wife was not home.

Every hour passing, the room felt darker, colder, emptier. Gray's mood soured. With each glance he exchanged with the bouquet of flowers, you would think they were wilting in his presence, his anger enough to kill a soul without any words. The tea lights were no longer enough to upkeep the romantic feel the room once held, the soft background music felt like nails scratching a chalkboard. Irritating, and seemingly ticking Gray off even more. Only opting for one glass of white wine, his settling anger drove him to continue drinking, the restlessness refusing to wear off. A flame mirrored in his irises, but that wasn't the flickering candles before him, it was the burning fury of being stood up, being disrespected, and being forgotten. Chantelle wouldn't dare.

Gray had already sent one text to check in on her, yet no response. Checking his phone proved to be more infuriating as he was left out to dry once again.