March 5, 2017

Fiction by Jennifer Holdich: "The History Channel"

I was born and grew up in the East Midlands in England and now live in South Wales.
I've written for pretty much all this time and has had a few short scripts performed at venues around Cardiff. I completed an MA in Scriptwriting, but have recently returned to prose, where it all started.
Short scripts tend to take a light entertainment/ reality TV format, give it a twist and watch it go bad, as in "A Magpie's Nest". I also love a ghost story. My wordpress site is:

The History Channel
I learnt when they were in and when they were out, when one was in and one was out. I waited until they were both out and I climbed in through an open window.
I wandered into the lounge and looked through her glossy magazines. Cosmopolitan, Marie Claire, Vogue and so on. I read an article about a woman who’d spent fifty- grand on surgery to make her look like Cher. She didn’t look like Cher.
I opened a Snickers bar and wandered into the hall. I went upstairs. I looked at the photos on the shelf in their bedroom. There were Rhys’ parents, his sister and the family dog (deceased). The others I assumed were The Lovely Abigail’s family. A sister, much like her, a mother, a father, a cat with glowing red eyes. A couple of the pair of them. All chocolate box.
I went down to the kitchen. I wondered what The Lovely Abigail would do now. If she were at home for the day without a care in the world. Would she watch TV? Read the magazines? Whatever it was, I was going to do it. I took the last bite of the Snickers, flipped the bin lid up and dropped the wrapper in.
I heard a key turn in the front door. Rhys entered the house. He looked surprised, then his expression became harder to name. He wasn’t pleased.
“Hi,” I said.
“Madeleine?” He said. “Madeleine! What the hell are you doing here?”
“I came to visit. I…um…missed you and I wanted to visit. I wanted to show you what I look like now. I’ve changed my hair, I do my make-up differently. Isn’t this the way you like it?”
He said it didn’t work like that. He said it wasn’t up for discussion. He said if I left straight away he’d say no more about it. But if I didn’t, he would call the police.
I asked him to listen, but he said “Not listening!”
So I lunged. Arms open, at the speed of light. I kissed him full on the lips. I even got a bit of tongue in before he got away from me. He gripped my wrists and held them tight. But at arms’ length. He began to shout. But only for a few seconds. After that he began to gasp for breath. He made a choking sound and tried to say something. Probably “help”. He let go of me and dropped to the floor. He started to turn blue.

Rhys, was allergic to nuts.
© Jennifer Holdich

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