Imagine you’re riding the subway in New York City. Next to you is a woman writing in her journal. You notice that she’s crying. Feeling nosy, you look to see what she’s written and read this: “I fear someone will discover the body soon.” Despite the risk, you keep reading. How does the journal entry begin and end?
From Writer’s digest November/December 2006
JOURNAL ENTRY
18 October 06
Wednesday
I told him straight out, it was time for him to go, but did he listen…NO! If only he’d have gotten help in the beginning, perhaps it wouldn’t have led to this. What fools!
ME, for thinking I could change him and HIM, for refusing to admit that he had a problem. And sneaking behind my back…as if I couldn’t tell the minute I looked in his eyes or he opened his mouth…HA! I should’ve known what he was doing when he kept going to the hall closet and rummaging around. Looking for his wallet, my ASS! I can’t believe he brought the shit back in the house and hid it in the coat pockets. What a loser…poor pathetic loser!
I’d have been better off leaving him right where I found him, instead of thinking I could clean him up and pass him off as husband material, but no….all my friends were married and having babies and I had the fool notion that I wanted to be married too. What a stupid mistake that was! I should’ve listened to my mother, or better still, the little voice in my head that told me to turn and walk out as I prepared to walk down the isle. But the church was packed and I was a coward. Now I’m a killer.
My only fear is that someone will discover the body soon, before I have a chance to get out of town, but the subway is nearly empty this time of night and not making many stops. I should be able to get a bus ticket to Connecticut without any trouble, and as soon as we leave the city, I’ll be home free. My parents will be thrilled when I tell them that I’ve finally decided to leave for good.
I can’t believe I actually did it. What was I thinking? I should’ve just packed my bags and left when he refused to go, but I didn’t. I let my anger turn to rage and when I walked in the bedroom and heard the sound of his breathing…I don’t know…something inside just snapped. It really did look like an accident though, the way he fell to the floor and I dropped the lamp beside him.
He was drunk and stumbling out of bed, tripped on the blanket and fell. When he reached for the nightstand to steady himself, he toppled the table and the big ugly lamp with its heavy marble base, fell over and landed on his temple, killing him instantly. No one would ever question whether or not a lamp that size could kill someone if it were to land in just the right spot. I’m so glad my aim was dead on (no pun intended), as I’d have hated to have to hit him more than once.
I feel prying eyes from the stranger sitting in the seat behind me, who I think just tried to look over my shoulder. Besides, the tears are coming again and I can hardly see to write. They aren’t tears of regret they’re tears of joy…that I’m finally free! Will write more later, when I get to mom and dads.
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JOURNAL ENTRY
