Prompt 57: Try to use all of the words in a story: plastic bottle, hockey puck, dirty handkerchief, crumpled note, unhinged door.
Mary-Anne Marsh took out the crumpled note and smoothed it on the table with the back of her hand. She straightened her rim-rod back and took a deep breath through her dainty nose. She scooted herself on the cushioned kitchen chair. She took another deep breath, still not daring to look at the words that she already knew were there. Very slowly she let her pale green eyes look down the end of her nose to glance at the note again.
“My dearest Annie,” She gasped slightly and crumpled the note again. She covered her perfectly shaped mouth with her well-manicured fingers. How could he do this to her? And to send the note to her office. She brought her hand to her chest, trying to calm her heart. Anyone could have seen the private message. Why after all these years did he want to talk to her? And why did her heart still have to react to him?
Her small round chin quivered as she straightened the paper again. Just four lines, four lines that had changed so much.
“My dearest Annie,I know you are angry about the way I left. I had to though Annie. Please let me explain things and maybe we can…I don’t know. Meet me at “our” house…tonight at eight.”
Mary, as she liked to be called now, crumpled the note for the last time and tossed it into the waste basket. Then, on a whim, she took it back out and shoved it into her purse, she would throw it away later outside of the house. It would never do for Anthony to find it. She couldn’t stop the shiver that went down her spine.
Anthony had agreed to marry her only on the strict agreement that she would never speak of that “other man” again. And really, what choice did she have? Danny had left her alone, broken, and penniless. When rich business man, Anthony Marsh offered a way out, she took it. Consequences be damned. Now, six years later, the note.
Mary pulled the car to a stop outside of an abandoned house. “their house” was in fact just an old house that probably should have been torn down, but they had big dreams. Dreams that had been cut short. Mary laid her head on the steering wheel. What was she doing? Determined that answers were all she wanted, Mary got out of the car and stomped the short way to the unhinged front door.
She kicked a plastic bottle out of her way, and stepped over a dirty handkerchief on the floor. “Danny?” she called softly. She had to fight her way over dirty trash, broken glass, pop cans, and even an old hockey puck until she got to a small room. “Danny?” Where was he?
In the shadows behind a door Danny watched as the beautiful red head stepped in. his breathing accelerated until he had to put his hand over his mouth so she wouldn’t hear him. His eyes throbbed a dull red. In the pale moon light, Danny’s snarls became louder.