Everything To Make Life Better

Everything To Make Life Better.
By Stephen Abell.
No. of words: 499


Going home, one evening, I noticed a new building to the left of the bypass “S. Lacker's Superstore - Everything to make life better.” I decided to turn in and investigate. I was the second car in the lot. The automatic doors swooshed open and welcomed me. Inside I noticed all the isles and shelves were empty. Musak played in the air, a rendition of a Fleetwood Mac song. Words fluttered through my head, “... she tells me lies, sweet little lies ...”

“Can I help you sir.”

The skeleton nearly jumped out of my skin. Turning I looked towards the voice. Behind the crescent shaped counter was one old man.

“I thought I'd just come look around, but you've nothin' in at the moment, so I'll get out your hair.” Something about him made me uneasy.

“I'm the owner, I think that the product in aisle thirteen can help you.” He pointed towards the isle. “Don't be afraid, I can make your life better.”

His voice weaved it's way into my body and I walked over to isle thirteen. The manila envelope had “OPEN” scrawled on the front. Inside were photographs of my wife with several men, some were group shots. Out of the strangers I recognised two faces. My brother and best friend. As the envelope fell the voice boomed over the speakers. “Move to isle nine, sir, to find a cure for your problem.”

There I found the belt, balaclava, suitcase, saw and “Instructions Of Use.”

Go home.

Put on balaclava.

Wife is watching TV. From behind use belt to strangle her.

Use saw to cut her up.

In suitcase are cleaning products that will remove all blood stains and heavy duty bags to carry her parts. Also a collapsible shovel and train ticket.

Fill suitcase with some of her every day clothes, nothing fancy.

Place bags in trunk and suitcase on rear seat of your car. Drive to woods and bury bags deep in the ground, with saw. Spread bags around, the wood is big enough to hide her.

Drive to train station. Stop at a couple of bins, on way, and dispose of belt and balaclava (Different Bins).

Take 9:10 train for Edinburgh, wife has family there. Leaving suitcase you'll get off one stop down the line and walk five miles back to your car.

After a couple of days, phone her family and ask for her. Then phone police saying she's missing. They'll find the case in the lost and found, thinking she was abducted from the train.

Life's better.

I followed the instructions to the letter and it worked. Two months later I'm here, sitting in this cell, telling you my story. What happened? You ask. It's pretty simple really and rather ironic. One of the detectives called into Mr S. Lackers Superstore. There on isle thirteen he found photographs detailing the murder and burial of my wife. With the remains and the saw dug up what could I say in court except, “Guilty M'lord.”


[for the "Struck By Lightening" competition - prompt "A Strange Super-Store Opens In Town"]