I’d had enough of my husband’s verbal abuse. I began recording his comments, typing and printing them out, and shredding them.
He couldn’t talk after that.
Two nights later he beat me with a car antenna. I determined that more than his vocal chords needed to be stilled.
The next morning I sat on our bed with a photograph of him. When he stepped out of our bathroom, I crumpled the picture. My husband’s bones snapped and he collapsed into a ball.
In seventh grade study hall I used to crumple and un-crumple notebook paper until it took on the texture of Kleenex. I did this to the photo, then blew my nose with it and laughed until tears wet my face.
I went into our bathroom and flushed the photo. When I went back into our bedroom, nothing remained of him except for a damp spot on the carpet.
G. E. Smith has written clown skits, scripts for his hometown junior high D.A.R.E. and PeaceBuilder programs, silly, rhymed children’s verse, and short works of dark fiction. Most recently, his work has appeared in Trembling With Fear, FunDead Publications, and The Nocturnal Reader’s Box. Mr. Smith works in north central Illinois, where he lives with his wife Joyce. If you’re interested in what he’s reading, writing, and submitting, check out his Facebook page: fb.me/WritefullyMinded.