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Vignette: The Seeds of Revenge


It consumed Shelly’s mind. The moment she walked away from James, her brain began chewing on her vengeance. He would pay. His body would bear the mark of his sin. Shelly was sure of that much.

The first plan that she engineered was discarded quickly. There were simply too many ways for things to go awry. Her thoughts had been too hot, too fresh, too intense. She decided that revenge would be much more fulfilling if served meticulously and intentionally. There would be no hysterics. Shelly wanted to see James’ search for mercy as he looked into her eyes. She wanted him to see her cold lizard brain through her dead eyes. That would be her personal victory.

It took her several weeks of planning. It took her several months of positioning her traps. It would only take the span of an hour for her triumph to be complete. Shelly had sacrificed everything in her quest. She had lost her job months ago. Her savings were running dry. Shelly was unsure of her future. One thing sustained her, though; he would pay.

The day was upon her. She threw the duffel bag into the passenger seat and began to drive with one thought on her mind. Today, he will pay.


Vignette: A Short-Speed Chase

The car turned the landscape into a blur of lights and darkness as it raced down the highway. Sam wasn’t sure exactly what had happened, but he knew that he was in trouble.

The suspicion hit him when he first noticed that he was driving. He looked around groggily, his brain trying desperately to catch up. He had experienced black outs and sleep walking before, but usually his wife was able to manage him through these times. He dug his cell out of his pocket and punched in his wife’s speeddial.

Suspicion turned to alarm when he heard the ringing from the backseat. “Marge?” he asked, “Are you there?” He couldn’t see anything through the rear-view, and was too terrified to turn his head to actually look.

The alarm turned to panic when he realized that his hands were sticky. It was hard to see detail in the glow of the dashboard, but he already knew what color his hands would be. His stomach turned.

Panic turned to hysteria when he saw the flashing lights in his rear-view. He knew what they would find. He knew what would happen to him. He sped up. The lights behind him lagged for the briefest of moments, and then were right on his rear bumper. The needle hit 95-100-105. Sam checked his rear-view. It was the last thing he would do.

It took several hours to clean up the debris from the accident. Hundreds of rush-hour commuters cursed Sam without even knowing his name.


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