Spark

Okay, well, I took some suggestions and shaped it up a bit. Let me know what you think!
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“Honey, just go to sleep,” my wife murmured, turning her back to me. I ran my knuckle along the crease next to her spine restlessly.

“I can’t. I’m just so overwhelmed with work. I have so much to do and I’m never going to finish,” I said softly, withdrawing my hand and lying back against the mattress. I looked over at her, waiting for a response, but none came.

It was beyond me how she could be so content in this world of regulations and traps. Life was so mundane. America, home of the brave and land of the free, turned out to be full of timid, chained men. Nobody had the guts to do anything about the every day things; the things that tied everyone down. Being an employee was being underneath someone. They had power over your freedom. How was that freedom? How was being ordered to do someone else’s business, and being given a pittance for it, freedom?

Ever since high school ended, and the naivety of childhood wore off, I have been under someone else’s thumb. My psychiatrist called them power hungry. I went straight into an entry-level job because I couldn’t afford college. It was only through a lucky break that I got my cushy office and bigger title, but the workload doubled, and the pay was only raised pennies. I married my wife when I still didn’t know whether or not I was in love. I supposed that it was close enough to love, and we tied the knot. Now, at the age of fifty seven, I’m suffocating in America and all its boastful freedom.

I went to bed that night resolved about what was going to happen tomorrow.

The next morning I woke up refreshed for all of my brooding that last night. I kissed my wife goodbye just like I did every morning, and got into the car. On the way to work, I listened to the same radio station I always did. I parked in the same spot, and walked to the same office. My secretary waved a greeting.

“I want to talk to Marty, I'll be back in just a minute,” I said, putting on a cheerful façade. Marty was my boss. He was a man who reminded me strongly of a mouse: fidgety with bulging eyes, and a sharp bite. Without another word, I walked down the hall to Marty’s room, and banged on the door.

“Joey! How are you this fine morning?” The boss asked, stepping aside as I walked into his room. I shifted so I was in between him and the door and I reached into my coat pocket.

Bang, bang, bang!

I collapsed onto the ground almost as fast as Marty did, my starched eggshell shirt spattered with his blood. I heard the footsteps of others who came to see what the commotion was.

“Joey! Oh my god, Joey! You killed him!” My secretary shouted frantically. Someone screamed. I threw the gun to the other side of the office and brought my hands to my face. I lay there, absolutely stunned, waiting for the rush of freedom. I made no move to retrieve the gun. In the several minutes before the cops arrived, I sat patiently waiting for my freedom. Handcuffs were snapped around my wrist, I was hoisted to my feet, and I looked around wild eyed.

“I’m supposed to be free! Why aren’t I free?” I cried hysterically, crumpling into a ball. As I was dragged away, I realized that I had been so intoxicated by the idea of true freedom that I gave away the small bit I had.

Writer45

Wonderful on the rewrite there Spark. I have only a few comments below:

I have so much to do{,} and I’m never going to finish...

at the age of fifty seven{fifty-seven}

“I want to talk to Marty,” {rewrite suggestion: "Hold my calls. I need to speak with Marty," or something like that. towards the end of the sentence he just goes to Marty's office. but the way you've worded it, its like he's asking her to check and see if Marty's available. Just thought i would suggest}

I shifted so I was in between him and the door and{, as} I reached into my coat pocket.

Love the ending. Great job on the rewrite.

Spark

Thanks! I'll fix that up

aliceedelweiss

Much better than before! Much much better! I really like it this way. There is only one thing I would add, I don't know why I didn't think of it before. When our main character tells his Sec. "I want to see Marty" And he just walks off...If she isn't saying something back like "He's in his office." or "You can't go in there now he's on the phone with so-and-so!" then why is he telling her in the first place. couldn't he just as easily wave to her, and smile, then head to his bosses office? I think That'd be much more...casual than 'I want to see marty!!!" You know?

Quote:

I have so much to do, and I’m never going to finish

Remove the comma between 'do' and 'and'.

Very good like I said above You really improved it.

Alice

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RachelA

I liked this story, although I'm curious as to how he reached this decision to shoot his boss. It was not a crime of passion, it was premeditated. He sounds like an intelligent enough guy so I can't understand why he didn't foresee that if he walked into his office and shot his boss, there would be no consequences? I'm guessing he has slight mental problems or you would not have put in that part about the psychiatrist but maybe if you stressed a little more about his mental problems, the story would be more convincing. For example, maybe by adding a sentence or two about his mode of thinking which is clearly not normal mentality like, "My psychiatrist also told me that it's wrong to slap my wife when she backchats me so that just proves what he knows". That's my two cents worth anyway and only a very minor point. The story, as I said, is a good one, especially the way you describe his discontent. I really felt that part. Well done.

Arin

I agree with everyone, this is much better. Even though you could expand on it more, I can now draw my own conclusions about Joe and why he did it without feeling unsure.

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