Dear reader,
If you're reading this, my wife is dead. Now hang on just a minute before you cast your judgment. Tragedies happen every day but that ain't what happened here; I was doing the Lord's work. You see, Matilda wasn't a listener like she should've been; she was stubborn and defiant. You'll understand once I've explained.
Life had been tough on the farm, especially watching all the rich folk ride through town, reeking of fortune. I learned early on the rules of avoiding them greedy fools. Mind your business, eyes down, and walk fast.
I went to the butcher, and quickly went about my business selling off two freshly slain pigs. A tired man stood on the opposite side of the stained counter. We went about our usual routine: I tossed the pigs up onto the counter, then the old man pushed a pile of coins my way.
After the Dust Bowl ended in '36, I had nothin' to give when I married Matilda. Once before, my family was known for the hard work we did on our prosperous farm. We called that place the Lord's blessing. It'd been about 20 years and I ain't grown a proper vegetable since. Instead, I'd turned to pigs for income.
"Now this here ain't enough." I slid the coins back. The market is a tricky place; if you don't keep an eye out, they'll underpay you every time.
"That's all you're gettin'. Take it or leave it." The man shoved the coins towards me again, scratching his greying beard.
I grumbled my disagreement but swiped up the silver coins anyways. Times had gotten tougher lately, and I really needed every penny I could get. I bypassed the busy roads of ladies in gowns and men in suits, choosing to slink behind a building to follow a hidden dirt path.
YOU ARE READING
A Letter of Her Sins
Horror"It was an easy fix. I pulled the trigger, and the problem was solved. The shot echoed in the empty house; Matilda's body slumped out of the chair. That was the first time in a long time I felt peace." ------------------ After tiring of his wife, Ma...
