It was a moonless night and Julius Archer could hardly see twenty yards. That didn’t deter him. He was a man on a mission, fuelled by jealous rage.
The deserted country lane was a perfect hideout. Once more he checked the revolver in his pocket. This was the perfect time.
Turner’s wife was 25 years younger than himself and although the couple had a 16-year-old son she was still a thing of beauty and, Turner imagined, had many admirers.
He loved his wife, he told himself, and could not live knowing she was going with other men. His groundless jealousy had caused many separations but they reconciled when he agreed he would not suspect her again.
He had lied. It was an obsession. This evening, he had told her that if she cheated again he would kill her. Now, he reckoned she only had herself to blame.
There was a church social and he convinced himself she was there with another man; his suspicion seemingly confirmed when he watched her leave the hall and slowly make her way down the shadowy lane. He couldn’t see the man’s face, but his outline was 6ft. tall and he walked closely by her side.
He released the safety catch and waited. He wasn’t nervous, just determined. He had given her fair warning.
As the couple passed he coldly shot her three times and the man twice.
Then he dragged the bodies into some light and discovered they were his wife and their son.
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Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 