I Once Asked

I once asked you if you were happy.

Happy here in this place

Happy here in this space.

Happy with the love we share.

That was your chance, you know, to come clean with me. At that very moment I would've been willing to forgive. Not forget, but forgive. Forgetting would take a little longer.

For it would take a little longer to forget seeing you with her in the restaurant where we had our first date, in the very place where you proposed, at the table you asked me to be your wife for life.

It's too late now, too late to answer the questions I once asked. For you're staring at me, eyes vacant black pools, blood streaming from the hole in your head, made from the bullet from my gun just seconds ago.

I once asked her, the woman laying next to you in our bed, why she took you from me. Just like you, she can't answer the question either. Her eyes are shut, but the hole in her head is bigger than the hole in yours.

Maybe she's with you somewhere in eternity.

Wishing that when someone asks a question, you both would have the courage to answer.

from Women of Color Writing Workshop, February 2014
Writing prompt: 7 minute timed.

Choose one phrase from the following to start your story:

If I could stop...
If you must know...
I once asked...
The first day...
The hurricane neared...


It is easy to see which one I chose. I chose to use "I once asked..."

This story shocked the ladies. The angry woman in this piece seems so... calm. 

Did the turn in the story shock you?

If so, good. I love when I can jar your emotions in so few words.

Shock value is key.