The murder of Caroline

Well, well, well … I haven’t blogged for so long that I almost forgot my WordPress password! Thanks to a writing workshop I recently attended (a gift from Mr Teatart), I have officially broken the writing drought.  So here is my edited short story assignment that depicts a part of the story telling process where the stasis is broken.  I call it:  The murder of Caroline.

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The first time Caroline met Joe at work, she knew she would be his wife.  Her life had always gone to plan, and now, Joe was no exception.  With just one look in his eyes, she foresaw children of her own, a dream home – the whole proverbial picket fence experience.  What Caroline didn’t know, couldn’t know really, was that Joe had secrets:  dark, festering, carefully guarded secrets.

You see, Joe had a type and Caroline was that type.  He would set his sights on winning her over and unwittingly, she would fall for him.  She would believe their first meeting to be a serendipitous event.  He would bump into her in the corridor with just enough force to send her papers and cell phone tumbling to the ground.  Apologising profusely, they would simultaneously stoop to collect her belongings, bump heads, and with his hand grazing hers, he would unleash his disarming charm.  The rest would be history.  Thanks to Hollywood, Joe believed his job would be done.  So many women were too eager to be loved, to be swooped up in a fast-paced, picture-perfect romance.  That’s exactly what Caroline got.

The day the wedding bells chimed and Caroline walked down the aisle beaming at him with love and adoration, Joe beamed back – a smile that nearly consumed his entire face, squinting his eyes into slits and lifting his eyebrows almost into his hairline.  Expect Joe wasn’t smiling in loving reciprocation. He was smiling at the thought of what he would do to Caroline in just a few hours.  Finally, he would be happy again, able to relive his twisted fantasies.   Joe then began to fidget with anticipation.  She would be his now to do with as he pleased.  Just a few more hours … just a few more hours.

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