MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “revenge”

The option of retaliation

https://www.rd.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/The-Science-Behind-Why-Howling-Wind-Is-Spooky_273772163_andreiuc88-1.jpg

The wind howled waking her up almost constantly. It was hard to sleep soundly when you were constantly worried that your entire house would be blown down. For a person already overcome by anxiety and stress, this was almost too much to bear.

The morning began with rain in addition to the gale. It was ice cold outside.

She had promised to meet him at their usual café. She was comforted by the fact that it was almost certain the fireplace would be on today.

He was already waiting for her when she arrived. But, following the gentleman’s rulebook, he hadn’t ordered yet.

He smiled widely upon laying eyes on her. His whole face brightened immediately, bringing out the sun in an otherwise freezing day. She was still reserved. It wasn’t easy to let things go so abruptly. To forget. Overthinkers have this disadvantage. They remember everything. Especially the bad things.

He reached out to grab her hand but she pulled back using the cold as an excuse.

He was seeking another chance. A fresh start. A new beginning. Hope.

In her head, a million things were gushing through. Thoughts of retaliation, of payback, of making him experience the same, of handing him too the same absolute demands and the ultimatum he so carelessly gave her back then. She could feel the anger steaming up inside her. Her head suddenly felt all too hot and it wasn’t because of the fireplace.

She took a deep breath, trying to quieten down the yelling inside of her.

It wouldn’t lead anywhere. She tried to console herself. If she acted in the same way, if she wronged him as he had once done to her, there was no point in even trying to be there together.  Ghandi had said “an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind”. He was right. There is a reason why one person must always maintain a superior level. Because if you too retaliate in the same way, you are no better in the end. Perhaps you’re even worse, because you knew of an alternative way and did not take it.

The tree that continued to burn

burning_tree___better_by_schorschi19There was once a tree in the middle of the forest. It wasn’t just any tree. It was tall and sturdy, with its branches extending over an entire perimeter. In bloom, it was the most beautiful tree in the forest, visible from miles away. From above, pilots flew around it in circles as it appeared like a lily in a pond of frogs.

The tree knew it was extraordinary and that it was admired for its exquisiteness. It took care of its body, assuring enough sunlight and water reached its stem and leaves. Yet soon, attention gave into narcissism. And the tree became so vain it repulsed the forest animals and bugs. No one wanted to be around it anymore because it had become so obsessed with itself. With its looks, with its bushy appearance, with its dominance in the forest. The other trees were overshadowed by this one, as it stood tall and swayed in the direction of the light, hungrily consuming the sun’s rays, while its deep roots lapped up the majority of the water in the soil.

Soon, the tree had ruthlessly devoured most of the nutrients and elements required for growth and the forest was starving. The other trees had become feeble and dried to the point that they were withering away.

The forest was resembling a patched blanket as the trees perished leaving behind gaps of rubble where they once stood. Yet the conceited tree remained firm in place, concentrating for itself as many nutrients still remained.

One day, a mocking jay flew above the forest with a sparkle on one of its legs. The tree looked up and smiled, jeering at the bird for its meagre appearance. At that moment, the bird dropped its sparkle right onto the tree.

It was a small piece of burning coal.

With water being scarce in the forest, the tree too was becoming severely dehydrated and it was not long before it caught on fire. Its abundant branches ablaze, the tree could do nothing other than watch itself burn. The fire had rapidly spread across the forest gulping up any remnant of a tree that it found in its way. Now all that remained was a towering tree in the middle of scorched land, glaring from the intensity of the flames.

The tree was too proud to call for help. So it kept burning.

For days, weeks, and months it burned. It combusted even when it thought there was nothing left to consume.

When it decided to curb its egotism and finally call for help, it was too late. It no longer had a voice with which to yell. And anyone who saw the great tree aflame in the once forest, thought it was too late to save it. So no action was ever taken.

The tree learned the hard way that some things should be more carefully considered. And it vowed that if given a second chance it would do things differently. It would use its strength to protect the forest instead of contributing to its demise.

When everything seemed lost, the mocking jay returned.

As soon as it flew over the tree, the flames were miraculously exterminated. And by the time the tree thanked its dear friend to whom it also apologized for being so inconsiderate before, a green shot bulged from the carbon-infested tree trunk.

The tree was given a rare second chance. And it was determined to live up to its vow this time.

The ring, the stranger, and the spiders

gold ringThe golden ring was stolen on a Monday. Lewis couldn’t sleep until he had figured out a way to get it back. It was already Wednesday by the time he had devised a plan that might work.

He knew who had stolen it. He remembered a dark, sinister strange, brushing against him as he hastily left the room that day.

It only took a minute. He still did not know how it had happened. But the golden ring with the sapphire-shaped heart in the middle had somehow disappeared along with the stranger that day.

It was an extravagantly dressed, corpulent woman who had noticed it first, as her shrieks even scared the guard dogs outside. It did not seem that the glass surrounding the luxurious and exorbitant ring was cracked at all. So how on earth did they manage to steal it?

Lewis remembered following the stranger into an alley behind the Museum. But there was absolutely nothing there, other than three walls leading to a dead-end. And the stranger was gone.

All day Tuesday Lewis contrived his plan and suitably equipped himself for the mission that lay ahead. Two special policemen accompanied him to the end of the alley, but from there he would continue alone. It was his responsibility and he would be the one to retrieve the ring.

They scanned the area for a whole five minutes before they found it. The stranger’s escape route.

It was a trapdoor at the left side – the darkest part – of the alley. But the minute Lewis shed his torch light on the dark abyss that opened up below, his heart stopped.

A hairy-legged black spider crawled slowly out of the darkness onto the grey-stoned alley road. And then another. And another.

Lewis hated spiders. And most importantly he feared them. He shivered all over with disgust as he dreaded the idea of climbing down there with these awful creatures.

No, he would not. He could not. There must be another way. This would simply be a decoy. The real exit was elsewhere.

Soon the left side of the alley was slowly being taken over by spiders.

Lewis shuddered and jumped up with such a yell that the museum guard dogs ran to his rescue. They had been trained to react with every scream.

Lucky for him that they did not have the same problem with spiders. They quickly forced them all back under the trap door.

But the most fortunate coincidence of all was when one of the dogs chased around one spider which was pretty fast for its genre, crashed out of excitement onto the back wall, and revealed the real exit.

The back wall was simply plaster. Thick layers of plaster.

After that, it all fell into place quite easily.

The wall opened up to a wooden, poorly constructed shed, where apparently the stranger-thief had hidden the priceless jewel in a shoebox until he returned from somewhere. All it took from now on was a hideout until the stranger came. He didn’t take long; only 40 minutes.

The ring was returned to the Museum. And the dogs given a life supply of bones and treats.

What was most surprising though, was that the ring thief was actually the extravagantly-dressed, corpulent woman’s husband, who also happened to be the ex-director of the Museum who had been fired for misconduct and embezzlement a year ago.

Revenge can truly take astonishing turns.

But payback does belong to a dog.

 

Inspired by Story-ideas-three elements

The revenge of the not-so-clever dog

odie-and-garfieldThere was a lot of shaking, water seeping in and then sand…lots of hot sand!

What was going on and who turned off the lights?

Garfield opened his eyes slowly, afraid of what he would see. Where was he?

The last thing he remembered was a hot plate of lasagne that Jon had dropped off. And then a serene nap under his blue blanket.

Wait, nope that wasn’t the last thing.

He had been woken up by a slobbering Odie – damn dog! – who wanted to play games. Garfield had managed to push him off the table…or had he?

Garfield peaked out of the box. Abu Dhabi?! Was this Odie’s revenge?!

 

This story is part of BlogShorts 2013. Other participants barking their tale include:
Blogdramedy
1pointperspective
SteveBetz
Joe’s Musings
Shouts from the Abyss
H.E. Ellis
Lenore Diane
Fix it or Deal

Murder on the rocks

MafiamanShe noticed him as soon as he came into the clubhouse. He was dressed in a sleek Armani suit (or was it Hugo Boss?) from top to bottom, with shoes so shiny he could see his reflection in them. His fedora with a silver star gleaming on the rim seemed brand new, as if he had worn it simply to make an impression that night. And the smoke emitted from his Cuban cigar made him fit right in to the foggy atmosphere at the club.

“Hey Al, how ya doin’?”

“What’s up Al? How’s the missus or should I say who’s the new one?”

Everybody knew Al.

He was a frequent patron at the clubhouse and one of the founding members of the club. He was responsible for screening new entries and evaluating existing ones. His word was law. Everyone respected him out of fear of being on the receiving end of his rage or displeasure. And everyone knew you should never anger Al. Not that anyone ever saw him angry. But Al was like a silent river; you never hear it coming. And the way he acted in order to clear his anger was unexpected. That is why it was so efficient. And why he (still) had never been caught.

“Hey doll. Gimme a whiskey, will ya?”

Even his voice was charming. At least that is what Lola thought, as she went behind the bar to prepare his drink. The usual, on the rocks. Because that too was one of his trademarks.

Al could draw all eyes on him the minute he walked into a place. Let alone a club he partly owned.

But tonight was different. Tonight he wanted to pass unnoticed. Because what people couldn’t see was the revolver hidden in his left inside pocket. It was fully loaded and ready to take revenge on Anthony. He had betrayed Al. And no-one betrays Al. That was a lesson he was about to learn.

 
Also part of the Trifecta Writing Challenge. The prompt word was CLUB:

3a : an association of persons for some common object usually jointly supported and meeting periodically; also : a group identified by some common characteristic <nations in the nuclear club>
b : the meeting place of a club <lunch at the club>
c : an association of persons participating in a plan by which they agree to make regular payments or purchases in order to secure some advantage
d : nightclub
e : an athletic association or team

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