Siglark

[In his prolouge to Bagombo Snuff Box: a collection of short stories, Kurt Vonnegut says that the first rule of fiction is to not waste your audience's time. If nothing else, I hope I achieved that.]



Bill answered the door innocently, and, when Martin’s kick forced the door the rest of the way open and snapped the security chain, stepped backwards defensively, fearfully, and above all, politely.
Upon entering the small, three-room apartment the Bill and Melissa shared, Martin fired three shots. Two shots hit the targets intended, and two hit living beings. The first, in response to Melissa’s dash to the kitchen phone to inform the police, hit the phone in the small, attached, kitchenette, effectively disabling it.
Bill stood in the center of the living rooms and, after being commanded to, Melissa joined her husband. They stood together, frightened and utterly alone. The two lived in a suburb of Chicago in a large apartment building. Their only friendly neighbors were on vacation. No one else would call the cops for them.
“Give me all the cash in your house!” Martin commanded. He surprised himself with the shakiness in his voice. Then again, it could just be the schizophrenia.
“Okay, man. That’s fine. Just calm down and we can all walk away from this just fine.” Bill continued to drone in a low, calm voice. He began to ease backwards into his bedroom.
“Wait,” Martin objected. Martin feared that the bedroom held a phone or a gun; both fears, however, being unfounded, “I’ll come with you. The bitch too.”
Bill and Melissa were behind on their rent, and floundering in debt. One phone was all they could afford. Luckily, they had it insured for one more week.
Melissa’s father, when she was eight, took the family shotgun with him out into the cornfield with him and show himself in the head. She later became phobic of all guns. She did not allow Bill to own a gun because of this.
Martin did not know either of these facts, so he accompanied Bill to the bedroom with Melissa. This is when bill got nervous, and began to talk.
“You know, we are very poor people. We live very bumble lives. I have tried to live a virtuous life, but I must admit that at times I have considered doing what you are doing; just to escape. I understand what you are doing, though. I really do. Luckily, I have Melissa to keep me in check. She-“
Before Bill could persist glorifying his wife, Martin stopped him. “All right. Shut up and get the cash.” His eyes blazed with raging intensity.
Bill went over to the cash drawer in his dresser, and began fumbling around. “I have some cash somewhere,” he assured.
Martin felt it was taking too long. Martin was getting angry. Martin was scared. “Hurry up!”
“Of course,” Bill responded, but began to shake uncontrollably.
Martin glowered, and fired a warning shot into the air.
Bill whipped around, eyes wide.
Martin, as he lowered the gun, commanded, “Find it.”
Bill continued to stare.
Marin felt something drip on his white t-shirt. His stomach flipped upside down and burrowed into his feet. He swallowed a string of spit as thick as the tension n the room, and raised his free hand to his shoulder. He dabbed the wet and brought it before his eyes.
Although expecting it, he almost cried out.
Blood


The blood continued to seep into Martin’s shirt.
He leaped sideways in disgust, trying to avoid the condemning stream from the floor upstairs in horror
“Who lives there?”
Melissa, speaking for the first time since the intrusion, responded, “An old, bedridden man, and his son”
Then why isn’t he screaming? thought Martin.
At that moment, a siren rang through the apartment, but only in Martin’s mind. “No!” he gasped. “Too soon!”
Bill and Melissa exchanged a confused glance. “What is it?” Melissa asked.
“I never wanted this,” Martin moaned, breaking down, “I just needed the money for medicine. I was only trying to help myself. I never wanted to hurt anyone!”
Melissa began to speak again, but Bill silenced her.
Martin, oblivious to his audience, continued, “Why me? And now look: They’re here! So soon.” Martin ran to the window.
No fewer than three cop cars loitered on the street below in Martin’s mind. He cringed.
Again, Melissa tried to speak, but Bill interjected, “What medicine?”
Martin continued to stare in horror at the window’s direction as he answered. “Anti-psychotics. I ran out.”
“Anti-psychotics for what?”
“Schizophrenia,” he replied. “I have residual schizophrenia, and now there are cops.”
Cops? Melissa mouthed, and Bill shook is head.
“And now they will find me. And torture me. And find out about all of the other bad things I did. Oh God!”
Martin stared intently out the window. His voice grew gradually louder.
“Unless I don’t let them. I don’t want to be tortured. Hell, I don’t even want to live. Yeah,” a smile came to his face, “I never have wanted to live. I want to die.” Bill and Melissa stood, shocked.
He turned away from the window and backed up against it. His eyes fixed on Melissa.
A look came over his face as if he had just found the answer to an age-old question. His eyes continued to smile although a gun blocked his mouth.
In harmony with the gun, Melissa cried out, “Wait!” and Martin’s body tumbled out of the window, brainless and soulless.
Bill consoled his wife, saying, “he needed to die.”
“No,” Melissa responded, “He was a sick man. All he needed was medication and therapy.”
They stared at each other for a moment.
They divorced a year later.

aliceedelweiss

Hello there,

How strong is this Martin guy? He must be a tank if he can kick in a security chain...

that

Figure out which "with him" you want to take out. No need for two. And I assume you mean 'shot'?

switch it up, use 'he' sometimes.

I liked the plot, though I think the last line was useless and didn't do much of anything for me. I think you should use Melissa's gun phobia more, show how scared she is of the man with the gun, especially when he goes to kill himself. Don't rush so fast through everything, put description into the emotions, not just words. (Does that make sense?)

I think you would do well we reading over your work before posting. There were errors that could have easily been caught if you read over it. It was nice though. Oh, and I think you should put a period after "Blood" at the end of the first part

Bravo,
Alice

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