Day 4 – The Whisper (Part 1)

Firstly it’s rather dull. Secondly, I’m really tired. Thirdly I apologise. Fourthly, second and third parts are more exciting. Well maybe not that far, but more rewarding. Well they might be when I write them. The idea itself is at least bearable.


Word count: 1132



Devin was wrapped up in the warm snatches of morning’s first light. Mere seconds ago he was lost in some tranquil haze of dreams and rest. But he was now untangling his legs from the duvet and felt his eyelids involuntarily open to dull grey light and a small luminous alarm clock that wouldn’t be yelling out its ring for many hours to come.


It was early. An early Sunday morning. And though it was warm inside the covers, Devin could feel the cold fingernails of winter scratching at the window. It was late November. Dark mornings followed black nights and dark evenings. It was the time of year that snow could secretly and sneakily fall from the sky to dust the pavements in a fine powder of nostalgia.


Devin’s heart warmed at the thought that today could be such a morning. He turned over to his back to see the sky from his window. But his eyes were met with something far better. By the window she stood, almost intertwined with the draping curtains, blending in with the greying blue light of dawn. She, wearing just his shirt, was staring out the window. Her silver blond hair fell over her shoulders like silk. He could almost picture the rising sun encapsulated in her opaque turquoise eyes. Claire, his wife of seven years, was as stunning as when he’d first met her.


“What are you doing out of bed?”


He stretched a hand over to where her creases marked the place where she’d lain in bed. It was still warm.


“I have to go now,” she said, distantly and still fixing her gaze to the dawn.


“Go? Where?”


There was no reply.


Devin rose a little out of the bed, “Are you alright? Come back to bed…”


Claire hesitated for a second before withdrawing from the window, “I have to leave…”


“Leave? Where are you going? It’s barely eight in the morning?”


But she was already dressing herself with unnatural ease. That was her all over; everything she did she did with such effortlessness. Even after all these years, he still stole a moment to watch her.


“I’ll be back tonight, alright?” She was now grabbing all her stuff and gathering it together in one big pile. She was hurried.


“Where are you going? It’s a Sunday morning?”


“Does it matter? Why does it always matter to you…I’ll be back tonight. I promise.”


Claire looked up at her husband and, for the first time since the night before, their eyes met. Devin was now growing concerned. He leapt from the duvet into the cold, suffocating air.


“Claire, please…”


“I can’t… I have to go,” but she was looking through him.


She quickly turned and threw open the bedroom door, disappearing down the hall like a ghost. Devin ran after her, but she had already reached the front door by the time he’d got to the landing. All he saw was the front door slamming shut as he was stampeding down the stairs after her. But he gave up half way, seeing her shadow flicker out of sight behind the frosted glass. She was already gone.


They’d not always been like that. They’d not always watched each other’s lives pass by them. Devin hardly knew if it could simply be put to growing apart or growing together. There were days where he could barely judge the difference. But it had not always been like that. Not always.


Devin picked himself off the stairs and collapsed back into bed. He felt numb. He had felt numb for weeks now. She was gorgeous. She was this divine being to him. His wife, his Claire. Now when he looked at her, he felt himself fighting back the tears.


An amber sunrise was creeping over the dark clouds outside. It might snow after all. Devin turned over to scorn the sky from his sight. What had he done to feel this way? Why was everything he touched so distant, so divorced from reality? It was as if all the emotion in the world had been slowly drained away; all was now a dull shade of bluey-grey, like the morning light he’d just woken to.


His pillow was damp. From the corner of his eye, he wiped away a few rebellious tears. Devin felt wounded. He’d never felt this way before in all his life. He stretched over to her side of the bed. He could smell her body on it; smell her perfume, her favourite shampoo. Maybe, maybe if he thought hard enough, he could still feel her body’s warm touch; her heart’s rising joy and her love burning bright. Maybe, just maybe…


Devin reached up to the glass of water on the bedside table. He was thirsty. But his hand slipped and he toppled the glass over. It smashed against the wall and spilled water everywhere, like a miniature tsunami. He sprang to his feet to stop it from cascading over the edge. But it was already too late. And it was then he noticed that it was actually beginning to drip inside the inner drawer. He tore it open – hoping to stem the small waterfall flow that was now dripping inside it.


There was something in there though. Something circular and shiny. Devin picked it up and knew instantly what it was. It was her wedding ring. Hidden away from sight and conveniently forgotten. His heart tripped. He felt sick. Was this where she wanted to keep her marriage to him? Locked away in a cheap bedside table made of chipboard; flatpacked and bought in an out of town carpark? Was this what she thought of him? Was this where she wanted to keep the last seven years of her life?


Devin cradled the ring in his hand. He remembered choosing it. Four endless months of searching for the right one. Nothing else would do but this. It was cut perfectly. It was just for her and her alone. But there was something else inside the drawer that caught his eye. A small piece of card – ornately decorated as if from a florist. He picked it out, and read the hand written words printed in calligraphy styled ink…..


“Always mine, D”


His insides were being ripped out and torn apart. His mind was an explosion of hatred and deepest sadness. Circling in his mind over and over again was the image of her standing so serenely by the window barely more than twenty minutes ago. The last moment before her perfection shattered. For this card, this tiny little card that so easily could have been overlooked, gone unnoticed and forever unseen was not sent from Devin at all.


To Be Continued


~ by S.G. Mark on October 11, 2011.

3 Responses to “Day 4 – The Whisper (Part 1)”

  1. Ooooo it’s a nice intro.

  2. mad boy

  3. i liked that. It tantalized. Here’s a suggestion:

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