He only married me for my night terrors.
It started innocently, with chocolates
and bouquets of flowers - although
they looked like the wilting daffodils
I had seen on Mrs Turnbill's grave.
He loved me, and showered me
with tokens of obsessive adoration.
They made my stomach heave, surely,
each more personalised, in twisted style.
But any gift was enough for me then.
We married. On a surprisingly sunny day.
It convinced me there was only good to come.
His old life had inspired his novels,
and his novels fed and clothed and housed.
There could only be good to come.
Until his pen ran dry. Depressed,
he brought out coffee, a well-used video
of “The Exorcist”, and a notepad.
All it inspired was hallucinations,
and our half-blind poodle became “Cujo”.
It was depressing. He made it so.
Then he took away the Valium, and exchanged
my sleeping pills for Skittles. Fool.
He'd watch gleefully as I squirmed,
desperately, as sleep led me to hell.
I had enough of waking up to his eyes
glinting with pleasure at my pain. The sadist.
When he was out signing one day, I found
the box he'd hid them in all along. Two-hundred
saving pills I crushed to sprinkle over his cornflakes
and mix in with his milk and coffee. Then I watched.
The last thing he said was
"This sugar looks like dandruff."
It started innocently, with chocolates
and bouquets of flowers - although
they looked like the wilting daffodils
I had seen on Mrs Turnbill's grave.
He loved me, and showered me
with tokens of obsessive adoration.
They made my stomach heave, surely,
each more personalised, in twisted style.
But any gift was enough for me then.
We married. On a surprisingly sunny day.
It convinced me there was only good to come.
His old life had inspired his novels,
and his novels fed and clothed and housed.
There could only be good to come.
Until his pen ran dry. Depressed,
he brought out coffee, a well-used video
of “The Exorcist”, and a notepad.
All it inspired was hallucinations,
and our half-blind poodle became “Cujo”.
It was depressing. He made it so.
Then he took away the Valium, and exchanged
my sleeping pills for Skittles. Fool.
He'd watch gleefully as I squirmed,
desperately, as sleep led me to hell.
I had enough of waking up to his eyes
glinting with pleasure at my pain. The sadist.
When he was out signing one day, I found
the box he'd hid them in all along. Two-hundred
saving pills I crushed to sprinkle over his cornflakes
and mix in with his milk and coffee. Then I watched.
The last thing he said was
"This sugar looks like dandruff."
Author notes
"Write in the style of Carol Ann Duffy from the point of view of a "silent voice", fictional or factual."
I did Stephen King's wife. Does he have one? Meh, who knows, this is fictional.
I won a bag of sweets for this
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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I love the fictional story line. It reminded me a bit of the father character in I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith.
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A bag of sweets?

'Then he took away the Valium, and exchanged
my sleeping pills for Skittles. Fool.
He'd watch gleefully as I squirmed,
desperately, as sleep led me to hell.'
and...
'The last thing he said was
"This sugar looks like dandruff."'
This was brilliant, I thought it reminded me a bit of carol ann duffy as I was reading it...
Added to favourites
Hope you've had a goody day
♥
Ooh, my work experience has been extended to next wednesday- last day of term. YAY
♥


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Yeah, big bag of Haribos!
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Stephen King was always too creepy for me. xD
I'm not much into horror.

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You deserve more than a bag of sweets for this one darling! This is amazing! I love it!! You did a great job on it!
No contest?
Ek is lief vir jou altyd
Mom


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You deserved the bag of sweets!
This is good, yea, he has a wife.
I wouldn't marry him, she must be just as twisted as him.
wooooo....

1 - 6 of 6






