/lit/ - Literature

Make your own publishing house

>>9866710
Not him but I had to take this opportunity to wrong something about John Lennon. Did you know that he beat his wife?

----
John Lennon busted down his front door. It was four hours past midnight and alcohol surged through his veins like the Amazon river during wet season. He fumbled around the wall trying to find a light switch. After locating and almost breaking the switch, John swung his head around and directed his droopy eyes at his wife, Cynthia Lennon, who stood upright on the opposite side of the room.

Cynthia's facial expression had a clear sense of worry, though lacked any shred of surprise. This was the third time this week that John had army-crawled back home from the pub with enough alcohol in his system to kill a horse. Cynthia's worry was not for John's safety. The tiny hairs on her arms were raised and the goosebumps collected together like a colony of flesh-colored ants.

John, contending with the simple task of walking, inched closer to Cynthia. Her heart started to beat like John's whenever he insufflated a line of cocaine. One second she saw her husband stumbling towards her and the next she was on the floor. She saw the all-so-familiar red river flow on her kitchen tiles. Saltwater evacuated her eyes and mixed with the blood. She stared at her wedding band. That was all she could could stare at. She wouldn't dare make eye contact with John.

As Cynthia heard John's footsteps growing rumbling away further and further from her, she closed her eyes. As her mind began to drift off, she heard a baby's cry coming from upstairs.