“You’re being melodramatic, you piss.” Melody said.

“Drink it.” Mark snapped.

I swallowed and felt the chains around me pull. They were cold, the promised death from the poison, warm.

My last vision, Melody in Marks arms, a long passionate kiss. My cheating heart ceases. Worthless as a carton of days old milk, I expire.

 

The #55 word challenge is issued by Lisa McCourt Hollar and the rules are pretty simple. 55 words based on a photo prompt.

 

Below is the one I wrote that I did not submit.

 

It was more the idea than the reality. I felt shackled. To a dead end job. To a loveless marriage. To a life without possibility of happiness. The knife stuck in my side. I was a failure. My death would not come so easy. Pity I would die as alone as I’d lived. Forgive me.

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