Scarlet Thunder
ream-like tendrils of soft white morning seeped down between the
spiny trees and kissed the dewy ground tenderly. A slight drizzle
still tickled the leaves and danced down the tree trunks. Though last
night's thunderstorm had not entirely faded, the sweet smells of dawn
promised nothing other than a blissful day of beauty and perfection.
Kelly drew apart the curtains. A small bird sat on the balcony outside the large log cabin and twittered a greeting to her. Strangely enough, it sounded as though it were coming from inside the house. Then she remembered leaving the Sounds of Nature album in the CD player the night before. Her memory continued along the lines of "the night before" and she looked over toward her sleeping husband. He was talking in his sleep again. A childhood habit never fully explained nor outgrown. She listened to his subconscious ramblings, attempting to understand what he was dreaming about.
Kelly's husband turned over and stretched his body straight out, moaning her name and then something she couldn't quite understand. She leaned in a little closer and shivered at the power excuding out of his body like a runaway aura. Her heart raced even faster at what she knew he must be dreaming.
He repeated the name. "Shelly!"
What? Had he just said "Shelly"? What did that mean? He wasn't dreaming about her, that was for certain. Did that mean there was another woman?
"Settle down, Kel," she told herself, mimicking her husband's voice. "You're just being jumpy. You just had the best time with him last night, so how could there possibly be someone else?"
As she was trying to reassure herself against the impossible, she moved toward his dresser and pondered the drawers. She could open them up and find out. Maybe there were pictures of her husband and his lover. A token of the little slut's affection for a married man.
She found nothing.
Kelly went to the living room and rewound the answering machine. No messages from any sexy blond or otherwise. Nothing.
She knew where he kept his private journal. But she'd never invaded anyone's privacy like that before; not even after he'd given it to her on their wedding night, fully intending to reveal the deep inner workings of his incredible soul. She reached into the nightstand beside their bed (was it only THEIR bed?) and took out the burgundy leather-bound volume. Paging through it while walking back to the bedroom, she found plenty of steaming descriptions and feelings about Kelly. Pretty recently written, too. All within the past three years.
Then she turned to May 17, 1997.
"I met an old friend today: Shelly Wiseman. I haven't seen her since we graduated college ten years ago, but I swear she is even more stunning now than I could have ever imagined back then. Not a wrinkle has touched her face."
A tear ran down the wrinkles on Kelly's own face.
"Nothing has been added to that wonderful figure of hers, other than more grace and a sultry sexuality that not even Kelly can compare to. We decided to meet again for coffee tonight and talk about old times or something."
Kelly's hand slid over her own aged curves. She was still more than beautiful and had turned many would-be lovers away at the law firm, but she was also more than devoted to that wonderful husband of hers who'd been fucking around on her.
She read the entry of the following day. Shelly succeeded in seducing him (or had he seduced her?) and the two of them spent the night in ecstasy in a hotel overlooking the Mississippi River. As Kelly began tearing through the rest of the diary, her husband voiced increasing dissatisfaction with her and desire for this Shelly bitch.
Kelly screamed and threw the diary at her sleeping husband who didn't even respond to that outburst of sudden violent hatred. It bounced harmlessly off his shoulder and came to rest beside him.
"Careful, sweetie," said a voice behind her.
Kelly whirled around to see That Whore standing in the doorway holding a gun in her gloved hand. Shelly was as beautiful as her husband had written, and Kelly felt more surprise than shame at the desire she began to feel. However, there was something in her eyes that wasn't quite a woman.
"Lie down next to him!" Shelly hissed, waving the gun toward the bed. Kelly swallowed hard, not wanting to heed the order nor wanting her brains splattered all over the room.
"Michael never told me he had a girlfriend," Kelly croaked as she moved toward her husband.
"Never told me he had a wife. Now shut up and lay down!" Kelly obeyed without another word, but her thoughts sure were talking. Was this her? Why was she here? Was this part of a murder plot?
That thought broke the dam holding back Kelly's fear. She collapsed into a fit of tears and sobbing. Shelly seemed to ignore Kelly and concentrated hard on Michael, who still had not awakened.
"That head of his always was full of surprises," she whispered, smiling dementedly at the pun. Then she raised the gun and clenched her jaw. "Now it's not going to be full of anything!"
Kelly's scream was cut short when her head disappeared in a clap of thunder and red mist. Her body jumped simultaneously and came to rest across her husband, which finally jarred him awake.
"What the---?" He couldn't turn around completely because of his wife's dead weight. He noticed this and, recognizing the shape of her body, smiled and laid back. "This wasn't the plan, honey," he told Shelly without looking at her.
Shelly took her gloves off and straddled Michael's back, massaging it gently. "I know," she purred. "The anticipation was too much for me. I couldn't wait."
"Foreplay has the same effect on you, Shelly," Michael observed with a lustful lick of his lips. Motioning toward Kelly's body, he said, "Why don't you get this sack off me, so I can shower and we can get out of here?"
"I like it better this way," Shelly mewed, leveling the gun barrel against the back of Michael's head.
Michael started violently, nearly throwing off both Shelly and his wife. "What the hell are you--" But he didn't get a chance to finish before his face became a scarlet mass of flesh, bone, and brain matter sprayed against the pillow.
Outside, a final clap of thunder echoed among the trees before all was silent and the sun came out.
