SUNDAY FICTION: Fruitful Seed

After the third slap, he took charge. Upon entering, he felt desire’s gravity pull on him as he took in the surroundings. Hers was a soul not lacking in warmth or water and best of all, it was empty. He worked like a lion desperate for a kill digging to the centre of her heart and planting that fruitful seed Hate.

With her hands raised and her eyes glazed, Jaeger tasted power, her intoxication ascending wave after wave as if riding on the sorrow in the boy’s tears. She sat floating on the climax of her ecstasy and thought to the beginning of her problems. Afterall, who doesn’t need excuses for their hatred?

A twenty-nine year old ex-model basking in the achievement that is a marriage based on love, she was the envy of women everywhere married or otherwise. She would saunter into dinner parties predicting the envious stares from men as they pondered the almighty question, ‘‘How does a man like that get a woman like THAT?’’ Jaeger was beautiful, Jaeger knew she was beautiful and Jaeger loved that she was beautiful.

On that day, she was happy. Candle lit dinner, all alone with her husband and the electricity in the air at the promise in his words, ‘‘I need to tell you something.’’ After dawdling, after kissing and finally promising that he loved her and only her, he had looked her dead in the eyes and revealed his promise. ‘‘Amasa is my son.’’

‘‘No. He’s your nephew.’’ He shook his head and her heart broke. ‘‘But . . . But he’s your nephew. I’ve known him since he was born. I’ve known him since he was born!’’ Eager to banish the despair soaking her she took to working it out herself because there was no way her husband would do that to her.

At the truth, she wept. ‘‘He’s four Carl. We’ve been married five years!’’ She couldn’t move, only cry and she wondered why she didn’t hit him or curse him or simply leave like she’d seen in films.

‘‘Baby,’’ she saw his tears and she screamed. He had no right to cry – to look as heartbroken as she did.

‘‘We can be a family Jaege.’’ Just like that and she became a woman to be pitied. A woman who was mocked and judged at every dinner party as guests pondered the question, ‘‘Why did she stay with him?’’

She loved her husband. She liked Amasa so she stayed. But now? She still loved her husband or she would if not for this bastard: a constant reminder of Carl’s capital offense.

The bastard looked at her and even though he said nothing, she heard his desperate plea for mercy. She folded her hand and punched him and the seed in her soul nourished.

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