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Nathan Davies

I woke up, and it was all a dream. More like a nightmare actually, it felt like the last fifteen years all over again. All that nagging, attitude, and indignation; hell, where did she get off talking to me like that! She even gave me grief about the 'accident', but it was only a dream, thank God. She's still dead and there's no waking up from that. Nope. Nosir. No way. Awww hell, I'll have to go check.

"Still sleeping honey?"
Man, that dream must have got me spooked, I'm talking to the dead. Worse, I'm making jokes at their expense; now where's that damn light switch... ah. There we go. O-kay, what do we have; fifteen steps down to the basement, one for each year of 'wedded bliss'; one of her pointy pink shoes on the seventh, nice touch but pink was never her colour; and a pair of legs at the bottom. Yep. Still dead. Still very much dead. And not moving. Good. I am so not going down there.

"Sweet dreams!"
Jeez, where did I pick up this morbid sense of humour? Guess it must be nerves, it's not like I've killed anyone before! And I thought that she had me on edge when she was alive! I could really use a stiff drink about now. No. Better not. Coffee would be better, I still need to figure out what I'm going to do with her; drunk in charge of a dead body, her dead body, would be a very bad idea! O.K. coffee it is. And food. To the kitchen.

Mental note: next time I decide to kill my wife, I must remember to do it at a more respectable time of day. That way I won't have to sneak about my own kitchen at three thirty seven in the morning, making coffee by torch-light for fear of waking up the neighbours; not that we have that many, but that Mrs. Poulton is almost as interfering as... Well, she's now the most interfering person I know. What to do, what to do... eggs I think. Scrambled. Seriously now, what am I going to do about her. I've tried avoiding her as I did when she was alive, but that just gave me nightmares, and if I simply leave her there people are going to start missing her. And she'll stink. Either way someone's going to come round here and start asking a heap of awkward questions, and what am I going to say.

Okay, here goes... We were going out, that would explain why she's all dressed up, but we had an argument about something, or nothing, which the neighbours can atest to being a regular occurence. Right, that covers me. We had an argument and I stormed off, refusing to listen to her rant on, swearing at my back and that kind of stuff. Okay, that works, but why does she go down to the basement? I can't very well tell Mrs. Poulton, or the Police that she'd found my hunting piece, the one which she demanded that I get rid of; the one which I don't have a license for, so I need an alternative. Ah, my eggs are done. Microwaves are such useful things. I just hope that the 'pings' didn't wake Bob. If that cat gets up I'll never have any peace.

I'll have to turn a light on in here somewhere, it's practically impossible to eat scrambled eggs in the dark... Wait a minute, that gives me an idea. What if the lights had gone out? The trip switches are down in the basement and she knew that, not much else mind you, but she knew that. And if I had gone off somewhere she'd have to sort it out by herself. Even better, what if I left because she told me to fix the switches and I'd simply had enough and told her to do it herself, then walked off. Yeah... So she goes into the basement and falls, no; better yet, she trips. I can easily pull a broom handle through the banister railings near the top, to make it look like she caught her foot on it when she reached for the pull-string switch. These eggs are good. I hope I'm not making too much of a mess, she'll k... Ha, I almost said she'll kill me!

Of course I'll have to go back down there and dismantle the the light switch; pull it free and put it in her hand. But I can do that. It's not like I have much of a choice. But then what? Somehow the body has to be discovered without me being in the house. I can’t believe I went to bed after it happened! What was I thinking! Think! I went out, so... I’ll have to return at some point. Our door locks itself when it shuts so it’s possible that I got locked out; I stormed off and didn’t take my keys. Okay. So, when I ‘get back’ I can’t get in, I make a fuss, probably wake the Poulton’s, and instant alibi. I hope. So... Back to the basement.

Oh boy. I’m sure I didn’t leave that light on. I...

I woke up and it was all a dream. Leaving the empty bed behind I head downstairs, half expecting to find the remains of an egg breakfast in the kitchen, but all is as it should be. A smile forms and I open the door to the basement...



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