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The Killing of Julia Wallace, crits and comments welcome

Posted: Mon May 18, 2009 4:21 am
by mae
This is to show you guys some of the stuff I write on other boards. This was for a title prompt.

The Killing of Julia Wallace

They found her in the kitchen,
her head stuck in the oven,
gas fumes floating through the house
and filling her lungs.
Julia Wallace had finally

She'd lived alone,
so was not missed.
They'd turned the gas off
weeks before,
but didn't come to check
until the bill remained unpaid.
The gas man found her.

Reporters filled the yard
and neighbors with greasy hair
came out to see.
She was quiet; kept to herself,
they all said,
as if she were an axe murderer.
She'd lived there 20 years.

Did she have any family?
detectives asked.
Who should we call?
It's clearly suicide.
Get a search warrant.
Maybe we'll find some records.

Twenty years ago, Julia Wallace moved in.
The house was new and bright
and just perfect for her.
She planted roses and daffodils
and violets.
She taught school at the primary school
and had a gentle lover.

He was handsome and suave
and she didn't know what he saw in her,
but she wasn't complaining.
He worshiped her, so he said.
That made her feel more special
than she'd ever felt in her life.

But then, the gossipy third grade teacher
down the hall
asked if they had broken up;
she'd been driving on Highway 14
and she thought she'd seen him
coming out of a bar out there
with some buxom bimbo
in a low-cut blouse.
You must be mistaken, Julia said.

But that evening, Julia drove out
to The Trojan Horse,
a watering hole out on Highway 14.
Her lover's car was parked out front.
Julia was afraid of what she'd find inside.
But she was more afraid to stay outside.

The bar was dark and smoky.
The stench of beer, cigarettes,
urine and puke rose from the
floor and the counter,
even the walls.
Afraid to step further into the room,
she hung by the front door
until a stringy-haired drunk
sidled up to her.
Buy you a drink, honey?

She skittered away from him
and straight into the arms
of her lover.
What are you doing here?
He scowled at her,
displeasure written on his face.
She noticed a hard-looking woman
with an impossibly large bosom
slinking up behind him,
She placed her hand on his waist,
sliding it around to his crotch.

Julia looked at her lover,
confusion and disbelief
at first preventing speech.
What is this? What are you doing?
He laughed.
You didn't think I really loved you, did you?
Look at you! I just wanted your money!
Now, go on. Get out of here!

Julia turned, rushing out of the bar.
He followed her, laughing and taunting.
As she ran out the door, a car on the highway
slowed down and turned in.
The third-grade teacher looked out the window
calling to Julia.
I thought I might find you here!
I guess he didn't really worship you after all!
She gunned the engine, spitting gravel
as she pulled out of the parking lot.

Julia Wallace died a little that day
and a little more every day after that,
until finally, she put her head in the oven
and killed the little bit left of herself,
leaving only a shriveled shell
for the gas man to find.


Posted: Mon May 18, 2009 10:51 am
by mslover
holy criminey that is depressing! :cry:

Posted: Mon May 18, 2009 11:20 am
by mae
Sorry. It's just a story :D