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My Eternal Triangle
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My Eternal Triangle
|AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (14)
Cogito, Ergo Sum (Short Stories) - [708 words]
Dormant Musings (Poetry) - [106 words]
Eighth Day (Short Stories) - [1,423 words]
Hell Is A Personal Place (Short Stories) Each of us has a personal idea of Hell! [1,043 words]
In Capable Hands (Short Stories) Or are we? [212 words]
In Transit (Poetry) A soul makes an unexpected pitstop along its journey. [232 words]
Madrugada (Poetry) - [73 words]
Null And Void (Poetry) - [61 words]
Retribution And New Beginnings (Short Stories) Secrets will out. [8,764 words] [Thriller]
Self Incarceration (Poetry) - [141 words]
Still She Lies (Poetry) - [92 words]
Take Heart (Poetry) - [108 words]
Touch Me No More (Poetry) - [114 words] [Relationships]
Unwanted Company (Short Stories) - [826 words]
My Eternal Triangle
I can’t sleep, and thank you for asking my good friend, I will tell you why. It had gone on for months, and by the time I had learned the reason why, I was reaching exhaustion. My normally even temper had become so volatile that I was afraid of my own shadow, in case it was as vile as I was. Thankfully, I am in control of that now and I am no longer afraid. I had tried drinking myself to sleep and that didn’t work, sleeping tablets were a complete waste of time and money, and while that stupid book I bought, ‘Insomnia’ by Rudyard Kipping may have made me laugh, it achieved nothing more.
I was at the end of my tether. My wife was annoyingly overjoyed that I had given up snoring and even the cat looked visibly more refreshed of a morning. I hate cats. Smelly, furry, selfish little creatures that kill for fun and then eat reformed jellied crap out of tins labelled ‘Cutiekitty’ and the like. Then they scuttle outside and crap in your flower borders and pee over your Oregano, but you don’t realise this until you pick a few leaves one evening and drop them onto the barbecue coals for extra flavour! Sly-eyed bastards the lot of them. That Lloyd-Webber guy has got a lot to answer for if you ask me. Almost as much as that twee little Manilow person and his bloody ‘Bermuda Triangle.’
‘You digress!’ I hear you say. But not so. Triangles are very interesting. Every triangle has three sides and three is an interesting number. There’s the Blessed Trinity, the three Witches in ‘Macbeth’ and even ‘Old King Cole’ had three fiddlers. Magic! In fact, I have recently had a threesome myself, and yes, (thank you for asking) it was very satisfying for me; despite the smoothie maker being cold and indifferent, and the cat being uncooperative whilst still conscious. But hell! You can’t have it all, can you?
Though my wife thinks you can. She wants it all; her career, soppy love story films and the postman. Another triangle, and another threesome for little me. That time, I featured alongside the postman, who incidentally took the starring role, and a hacksaw. I’m teasing you now; it would have been the hacksaw but I couldn’t find it, so I made do with a butter knife. Did he scream? Only until I forced his amputated member down his throat and watched him choke on it.
She missed him, though she didn’t say so. I just know these things now. I was tossing and turning in bed last night trying to sleep, though the devil knows I was wasting my time, and she was sat there reading this pointlessly inane book called the ‘Greatest Ever Love Stories.’ I was so afraid that I would vomit all over her and the book, that I got up and went downstairs to watch some television. Big Bird and Grover were counting in Spanish, which amused me for a while. But then I happened upon a spy film about these ‘secret agent sleepers’ that lie dormant in a foreign country until they are activated by the powers that control them, so that they can realise their destiny of retribution. It was good and I empathised with them, because I am a kind of sleeper of sorts. The film helped me to understand.
As the final credits ran, I kind of knew where my destiny lay. Sadly, my wife didn’t feature in it, so she’s dying in the basement freezer now, chilling out with her book and the postman.
‘There you go!’ I said to her. ‘Another triangle.’
If retribution was sweet with the cat, it was ambrosia with the wife.
I’m not the only one though; I am not the only sleeper. There are many of us all around the world just waiting to be woken up, but we never know it until our time is right. That’s why I have insomnia because we Demons never sleep, wandering in the dark seeking innocent souls to steal. So now it’s time for me to construct my own triangle; my first eternal triangle.
Me, your worst nightmares and … YOU my good friend! Welcome to my eternity.
|READER'S REVIEWS (3)
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"Good story and well written. I liked the triangle....angle! " -- e. rocco caldwell.
"I like the story, interesting concepts are discussed. Also it is a pretty well-written piece. Tying in the triangle adds something good to the story. I like the hacksaw part, and the mention of the mailman; it fascinates me." -- Emily Deja.
"I loved this story. It seems to me that you and I have the same sort of writing style or at least in this story, so I definitely enjoyed this story. Keep up the good work. Please if you have the chance take a look at some of my stuff and tell me what oyu think. Thank you." -- Moses M. Constable.
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© 2004 Erasmus Flynt
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