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Post 1473. Saturday March 11

The Sunday Whirl

People often tell stories of Millicent. She was everyone’s best friend at school. At university, she ran this club and that group. Then she took to the stage, a boon to every production. She sang, she danced, she entranced. When we met I fell in love; how could I not? We married. I was under her spell. She doesn't want kids, so nor do I. She wants me to run the house, so I do. Why not? Whatever she wants I give her.

Everybody adores Millicent. But sadly they are deluded. They don’t see my bruises, feel my pain. They don’t see my splintered heart, nor the beast beneath her flawless persona.

I was cooking supper last night, as usual. I find peeling things very therapeutic. My mind wanders as the knife goes round and round. Blanks thoughts become interesting ideas. And last night, mid apple, one came in a flash. Why not add an extra ingredient to the apple pie I thought? My special relish. It’s about time I used it. She loves my apple pie. 

Revenge is sweet they say, but not as sweet as my apple pie.

This week the given words at The Sunday Whirl are blanks, peeling, revenge, delusion, beasts, brims, splinter, relish, boons, flash, story and bruise of which I've used all but one.


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