| General Fiction posted July 4, 2024 |
  |
An unexpected twist to the truth
Desperation
by Claire Tennant
Glasgow-born Fergus Dyson, at thirty-five, had nothing to live for. He had become unstuck. He had been a bully all his life despite a fair and strong upbringing. Unlike his parents, both school teachers, he was not clever. He left school at fifteen, and while most boys found work or took an apprenticeship, Fergus worked only if he had to. Gradually, he did odd jobs and spent most of the money earned on alcohol. He fought so well physically that he should have become a boxer, but that, too, needed disciplined practice and taking the rough with the smooth. Fergus could not be bothered trying.
It was different the day he met Moira; she won his heart. Her Irish accent and sunny smile made him want to work. His Dad approved of Moira, and his Mum did, too, but she knew Fergus too well. She could not be seen to interfere in this marriage and become the hated mother-in-law. She longed for Fergus to stop the habit but knew in her heart it would not happen.
Fergus became a cleaner; it paid well. He and Moira, now married, lived in a flat near his parents. Moira worked in a shop, but it was not long before she discovered she was pregnant. Fergus went out to celebrate, coming home inebriated and was told he could sleep on the floor. Moira did not want to be near him.
When Frederick Robert arrived, things went well, but suddenly Moira fell ill. She died in her sleep. Later on, at the medical examination conducted by the local doctor, he noticed bruising well hidden under clothing. Moira's face remained beautiful.
Fergus could not cope with rearing a child. His parents helped, but Mrs Dyson also died suddenly.
Added to this, a man called Hitler was making his presence felt in Europe. Rumours of war circulated but were, for the most part, pushed aside.
Fergus imbibed more frequently; Fred was now the go-get, receiving Fergus' alcohol-flavoured wrath for the slightest thing.
Eventually, Mr Dyson senior took matters at hand and took his grandson home to safety. Against his better judgement, he asked Fergus a question about Moira's passing, fearing the worst. Fergus's fist in the old man's cheek fed his suspicions about this. Fergus got as good as he gave.
Mr Dyson had no alternative but to seek help for wee Fred's sake.
He arranged to speak to the police and was present when the local bobby decided to make further enquiries, fearing for the child's safety.
The station was short-staffed. The sergeant needed something from the front desk, leaving Fergus alone.
Fergus looked down and saw the rope under the desk. He knew he could not face what was coming.
He picked up the rope that formed the noose and flung it, along with the rest of the rope, onto a hook on the ceiling. Suspended from a great height, Fergus saw the sergeant come in and view the scene. In a panic, he tried to prevent what was happening.
"No," he screamed
"Please, No"
Fergus, tight-chested, gasped
"I ... killed her. Sorry, Moira."
Final Words writing prompt entry
Glasgow-born Fergus Dyson, at thirty-five, had nothing to live for. He had become unstuck. He had been a bully all his life despite a fair and strong upbringing. Unlike his parents, both school teachers, he was not clever. He left school at fifteen, and while most boys found work or took an apprenticeship, Fergus worked only if he had to. Gradually, he did odd jobs and spent most of the money earned on alcohol. He fought so well physically that he should have become a boxer, but that, too, needed disciplined practice and taking the rough with the smooth. Fergus could not be bothered trying.
It was different the day he met Moira; she won his heart. Her Irish accent and sunny smile made him want to work. His Dad approved of Moira, and his Mum did, too, but she knew Fergus too well. She could not be seen to interfere in this marriage and become the hated mother-in-law. She longed for Fergus to stop the habit but knew in her heart it would not happen.
Fergus became a cleaner; it paid well. He and Moira, now married, lived in a flat near his parents. Moira worked in a shop, but it was not long before she discovered she was pregnant. Fergus went out to celebrate, coming home inebriated and was told he could sleep on the floor. Moira did not want to be near him.
When Frederick Robert arrived, things went well, but suddenly Moira fell ill. She died in her sleep. Later on, at the medical examination conducted by the local doctor, he noticed bruising well hidden under clothing. Moira's face remained beautiful.
Fergus could not cope with rearing a child. His parents helped, but Mrs Dyson also died suddenly.
Added to this, a man called Hitler was making his presence felt in Europe. Rumours of war circulated but were, for the most part, pushed aside.
Fergus imbibed more frequently; Fred was now the go-get, receiving Fergus' alcohol-flavoured wrath for the slightest thing.
Eventually, Mr Dyson senior took matters at hand and took his grandson home to safety. Against his better judgement, he asked Fergus a question about Moira's passing, fearing the worst. Fergus's fist in the old man's cheek fed his suspicions about this. Fergus got as good as he gave.
Mr Dyson had no alternative but to seek help for wee Fred's sake.
He arranged to speak to the police and was present when the local bobby decided to make further enquiries, fearing for the child's safety.
The station was short-staffed. The sergeant needed something from the front desk, leaving Fergus alone.
Fergus looked down and saw the rope under the desk. He knew he could not face what was coming.
He picked up the rope that formed the noose and flung it, along with the rest of the rope, onto a hook on the ceiling. Suspended from a great height, Fergus saw the sergeant come in and view the scene. In a panic, he tried to prevent what was happening.
"No," he screamed
"Please, No"
Fergus, tight-chested, gasped
"I ... killed her. Sorry, Moira."
It was different the day he met Moira; she won his heart. Her Irish accent and sunny smile made him want to work. His Dad approved of Moira, and his Mum did, too, but she knew Fergus too well. She could not be seen to interfere in this marriage and become the hated mother-in-law. She longed for Fergus to stop the habit but knew in her heart it would not happen.
Fergus became a cleaner; it paid well. He and Moira, now married, lived in a flat near his parents. Moira worked in a shop, but it was not long before she discovered she was pregnant. Fergus went out to celebrate, coming home inebriated and was told he could sleep on the floor. Moira did not want to be near him.
When Frederick Robert arrived, things went well, but suddenly Moira fell ill. She died in her sleep. Later on, at the medical examination conducted by the local doctor, he noticed bruising well hidden under clothing. Moira's face remained beautiful.
Fergus could not cope with rearing a child. His parents helped, but Mrs Dyson also died suddenly.
Added to this, a man called Hitler was making his presence felt in Europe. Rumours of war circulated but were, for the most part, pushed aside.
Fergus imbibed more frequently; Fred was now the go-get, receiving Fergus' alcohol-flavoured wrath for the slightest thing.
Eventually, Mr Dyson senior took matters at hand and took his grandson home to safety. Against his better judgement, he asked Fergus a question about Moira's passing, fearing the worst. Fergus's fist in the old man's cheek fed his suspicions about this. Fergus got as good as he gave.
Mr Dyson had no alternative but to seek help for wee Fred's sake.
He arranged to speak to the police and was present when the local bobby decided to make further enquiries, fearing for the child's safety.
The station was short-staffed. The sergeant needed something from the front desk, leaving Fergus alone.
Fergus looked down and saw the rope under the desk. He knew he could not face what was coming.
He picked up the rope that formed the noose and flung it, along with the rest of the rope, onto a hook on the ceiling. Suspended from a great height, Fergus saw the sergeant come in and view the scene. In a panic, he tried to prevent what was happening.
"No," he screamed
"Please, No"
Fergus, tight-chested, gasped
"I ... killed her. Sorry, Moira."
|
Writing Prompt Your character is going to die within moments. What are the final words? Describe the circumstances of the pending death. Fiction only. |
Artwork by MKFlood at FanArtReview.com
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2024. Claire Tennant All rights reserved.
Claire Tennant has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.