Fog At Christmas

By Charles Ace 12 months ago

 Martins had returned home after the day’s work tired and hungry. He opened the door and started for the kitchen. Flinging the pot covers and cupboard doors open he was quickly taken aback by how clean and tidy they were. Immensely infuriated he made for the stairs and in the stormed in the bedroom, but his anger was even exasperated when he caught sight of Sandra, his wife, sleeping and fondling the stuffed bunny. In a most vicious manner he pull off the duvet and snatched the bunny from her grip. It was at this point that Sandra woke up, and after a series of yawns noticed her vexed husband. She greeted her husband in the most indifferent manner — more like  one would acknowledge the presence of an unimportant person.

“Why isn’t there anything to eat” he asked. 

“Oh, sorry baby, I was out all day with my friends” Sandra replied half-awake “ I came back late and was to tired to cook”

“So what do you suggest I do? “ he inquired

“Why, go fix yourself something to eat” she retorted “ you don’t want to starve do you?”

She then warped herself in the duvet and assumed her former position. The beaten husband, obviously spirit-trodden, look dismally at his wife— who by now had made her way to dreamland — and walked out of the room.

Martins often times wondered how he got ensnared into his marriage, a ramshackle home and a disgruntled wife. Hitherto, it had been a series of arguments, day after day, he returned home hungry and most times slept hungry. Sandra his wife  was often very unsympathetic and ungrateful. She had always been the one to foment all the arguments in the house on the verdict that her husband cared less about her and never provided for her. But she  always had all she wanted and all that could make a woman happy, Martins made sure of that. He was lavish in his approbation to her, loved her dearly, gave her attention and any she wanted, but when ever he delayed in getting those things she wanted, she made life unbearable for him. She received a BMW gift from Martins on her birthday, but instead of being appreciative, she showed deep contempt, saying that she wanted a Mercedes Benz cause her friend had it. She had taken to the habit of serving her husband a dinner of noodles when ever they argued and had only recently, desisted from cooking.

It was Christmas Eve. Martins and Sandra had gone to visit some friends and on their way back, Sandra took it upon herself to initiate a fracas. She turned the air conditioner knob increasing the cold temperature, being very cognizant of her husband’s allergy to cold temperatures. She argued that the car was hot and suffocating. Her husband wouldn’t let this go unanswered, he made to turn the knob but she held his hand and tugged it downward onto the pigeon hole violently and immediately Martins, in an act of retaliation, sent his hands right onto her  face. Bewildered, she restrained from any physical tussle and resorted to slandering her husband. She kept this on until they got home and on stepping in made an egregious statement, Martins flew off the handle and spontaneously made his fist do the talking. Sandra ran for the kitchen with her husband at her heels, she picked up a knife and swayed it. The knife had given Martin a cut on his cheek. Martins, now immensely infuriated, picked up a knife and ran a myriad of stabs through her chest.

The hour struck six. It was Christmas morning. Merry singing where heard, children smiling  as they opened their presents, mothers humming in the kitchen as sweet aroma of fried rice filled the air. Indeed, so much joy and happiness could be sensed in the atmosphere and all around. Meanwhile, as the world savors its moment of euphoria, back at the Martins’ residence laid two lifeless bodies; one evinces signs of murder, the other, suicide.



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Charles Ace
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