My story submission for Anita's Attic

For entry to the writing workshop by Anita Nair, I had to write a 400 word story given the opening line of the story. Here is what got me selected. Guess what? It's exactly 400 words. Now comes the hard part! To write a novel!!


The weight of its wetness stretched across the skin of her face. She lay still; comprehension of reality not there. The pigeons outside her bedroom window fell silent as if on cue. A strange silence permeated the room punctuated only by her deep breathing that somehow added to the quietude.
She made no move to get up daring not disturb the peace that had overcome her.
Her mind wandered back to her childhood. Through the tranquil haze, she heard her mother’s voice asking her to come in to clean up and do some homework. Reluctantly, she handed over the ball to one of the boys and walked in disheveled, unkempt but content. The boys were secretly relieved to see her go. Her prowess and control of the ball made all of them look bad, even her own teammates. She had scored a few goals today.
The wetness was now all over her and she felt the moisture beginning to weigh on her clothes. She didn’t care anymore. A sense of freedom pervaded her.
“This is the only way”, uncle Ram said. “I know you’re only 19 but your mother can’t care for you anymore and he will be a good husband”. She had no recollection of him, only knowing that he was a distant relative. They had met in some wedding probably but she couldn’t picture his face. Her mother looked at her imploringly. Ram uncle continued to sell the idea of marriage but she drowned out his voice with her own thoughts.
She wondered now if she should get up. It was getting quite uncomfortable already. The wetness was beginning to mix with her sweat and the smell made her want to throw up. She turned her head to one side and tried her best to vomit. Nothing came out.
At first, everything was fine. Shridhar was attentive and caring. He never displayed much emotion except during sex where he would get violent. She talked to her friends who said such things were normal. The violence got worse and it wasn’t only during sex.
She pushed him away, stood and surveyed her work. The knife had cut clean through his jugular vein. Blood was drying up on her face. The wetness was replaced by a stiffness but it didn’t matter anymore. She smiled contently. Getting rid of the body would be easy. She had already figured it all out.
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