WICKED TALES

ELEVEN

It has been five and half years since my husband died. January nineteenth was the last day my husband had taken a breath, and the last day I ever felt whole. Every year since he died I went to his gravesite with a fifth of bourbon and two shot glasses. This year was no different, I went to the site to have a drink with him. I drank two shots, chugged one, and went to toss the second onto his tombstone but froze in place when I saw my name etched under his name.

I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my jacket to be sure I was seeing my name. I wish it wasn't true but it was my first and last name with today's date. I watched enough horror movies to know when to get the hell out of dodge. To make matters worse it started to rain, down pouring rain at that. Before I could get off of the ground I was hit in the back of my head so hard I blacked out unconscious.

The rain hit my face hard as I was coming back to reality. My vision was blurry, I could hardly move my head, and everything was spinning. I tried to focus when a mumbled voice was saying something to me but all I heard was ringing. Finally, I caught a familiar women's voice saying my name. I knew this voice, I needed to see her to be certain but the rain obscured my vision. The woman told me that she had always known from day one what had really happened. She was getting closer to me, holding a shovel in her hand and asking me why. I had to see her, I knew the voice and I had a feeling I knew it personally.

Thunder clapped and lightning flashed right after, and there she was my daughter. She was standing above me with the shovel she must've knocked me out cold with. I grew frantic, searching for something to defend myself with. I knew from the menacing look in her eyes and the shallow grave she dug, I wasn't going to make it from the cemetery alive. Marissa asked me why I killed her father, why I had to take him away from her. When she asked me that it hit me like a ton of bricks. I did kill her father, but he wasn't what she thought he was. I had to tell her what happened, I had to try to explain why I had to kill him. I started to tell her that he was not her father but before I could get three words out, Marissa had forced the shovel on my face. I shook my head and blinked my eyes furiously hoping that she would have some remorse and not kill me. She stomped down on the shovel, blood, teeth, and bone fragments erupted from my mouth. She stomped again and my world went dark and cold, I guess I know why my name was etched into the tombstone.