It'd done gotten plum dark out when I got home, feet aching and back sore. I was ready to sit down for a warm meal but there was no food prepared for me.
"Matilda!" I shouted into the hollow house, spittle flying from my lips.
Of course, she did not make an appearance as any obedient wife would. It's them females; they think they got something to prove. I walked through the vacant living room and slammed open the bedroom door. There sat Matilda, in her rumpled dress, on the uneven wood-slabbed floor. She held a pair of my jeans, pulling a needle and thread through the waistband under the light of a singular lantern. I hadn't had the money to buy new clothes in years and with the smaller portions each meal, my jeans had needed some adjusting. But now wasn't the time; I was hungry. I grabbed her scraggly arm, dragging her towards the kitchen.
"How many times do we haveta go through this to get it in your thick head?" I jabbed my finger into the side of her head for emphasis. "I come home, food better be ready."
I will assume a fellow man has retrieved this letter and therefore will understand the annoyance this had caused me. Unfortunately, the stupid woman never caught onto what she ought to do as a wife and matters got worse.
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...
