source edited by me.
This is an entry to @jayna's micro-fiction contest with the prompt word of "wine". Here is the link to the post if you'd like to join in on the fun. The limit is 250 words, so enter if you dare!
The glass rolled from her limp hand and toppled to the hardwood floor. Shards of crystal scattered as the wine edged outward in a spreading purple stain.
“Marsha, my God, are you all right? Honey?” Greg rushed from the gleaming kitchen into the den and raised Marsha’s lolling head from her lap.
No response.
He dialed 911 with shaky fingers then resumed rubbing her hands. He pleaded with her to open her eyes, to wake up, to talk to him.
No response.
Sirens in the distance grew closer. Red lights flickered through the front window as paramedics rushed to to the door. They worked over her, started CPR, administered the paddles once, twice, three times.
No response.
Greg wailed in anguish as Marsha was rolled away on a gurney, no longer his picture perfect wife, now just a shell covered with a sheet.
He looked around the immaculate home, not a speck of dust, not a bit of clutter, everything in its place. He wandered into the dining room, the table perfectly set with service for one. The best china and glassware, the good silver, a crisply folded linen napkin. His overwhelmed mind finally took notice of the elegant white card sitting in the middle of the dinner plate.
I cannot live under this pressure. I tried my best to please you. Why have you always demanded perfection from me?
Greg stared at the note in a grief stricken stupor.
He had no response.
If you enjoy writing short fiction stories (less than 1,000 words) I'd love to have you join me on Narrative. Here's a link directly to my niche Flash Fiction:
Get in on the ground floor and see what it's all about. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me in the comments.
[credit@EdibleCthulhu]
