I was recently part of a group exhibition in Mumbai, and it was called Mystic Glory. Inspired by some of the paintings, I wrote a few short stories based on the paintings.
Based on Painting : a landscape painting
He was sick of her, she had had it with him. She needed to get away, or he’d probably have a knife in his head.
She stopped at the edge of the cliff and got out of the car. As she lay down on the hood, she slowly took in the breathtaking panorama that lay in front of her.
The cool winter breeze on her face, the warmth of the engine radiating through the hood onto her back, both equally comforting in their own way.
She looked out, and saw blue skies that calmed her, swaying trees and white, snow-capped mountains that made her smile. Wispy clouds drifted above her, painting the soft blue of the sky with white strokes and beautiful patterns.
She closed her eyes and lay unmoving. She synced her breathing with the swaying of the trees, drifting into that part of her mind that gave her the answers she needed in times of doubt.
She started at the beginning, her childhood. The first time she met him. She was seven, he was nearly eight. They both had blue bikes, and loved the outdoors. The bonding was instant.
In time they grew into the best of friends, and by the age of fifteen, shared their first kiss. They only grew closer as time went on, becoming a strong couple.
One day, she came home and found the lights all turned out. There were scented candles everywhere, and rose petals too. White lilies, her favourite flowers, were in ornate baskets and vases all over the house. A bottle of her favourite red wine and the special china they had bought together were on the table, along with the silverware they used only on special occasions. Soft music came on, and he stepped out of the shadows, dressed impeccably in a new tux, and highly polished shoes. He took her bags and softly set them aside. He looked at her, and smiled gently. Then knelt. And opened his right palm, revealing the most beautiful diamond she had seen. He was still opening his palm when she said yes.
That was ten years ago.
The fights began five years later.
Since then, it had been five years of constant fighting, mostly over the most trivial things. This time though, it was big.
She wanted a child, he still didn’t. She didn’t have much time left on her biological clock, being thirty-five now. She confronted him.
She was not expecting what she heard.
They were broke. They had no money. Nothing. He had lost the money through bad decisions and poor investing he said. They couldn’t afford a child.
There was more to come.
Shocked, she asked him how this could have happened.
He told her that he had put all their money in the market on the advice of a woman he used to work with. The woman he’d been having an affair with for the last five years.
So she left. Her last words to him were “I need some air, or I might just kill you, you sick son of a bitch.”
That’s why she was out here, at her favourite spot, on a cliff in the middle of nowhere.
She had her answer. She knew what she had to do. He had ruined her life, so she would his. The bastard and his home-wrecking whore would see things up close and personal.
She called her mum, and told her that she was sorry that she had to say goodbye this way, letting her know where to find her. She told her mum to get her husband with her when she came, and to bring the police too, if she could. “I love you mum, and I’m really sorry. He lied, he cheated, he stole my life from me. You’ll be taken care of through my will, I had a little set aside for you. I’m at my little spot out in the mountains, you know the one. Bring the bastard with you, and the cops too. He’s going to be charged with murder, and you’re going to see to it. I love you mum, and I’m really sorry. I have to do this. Goodbye.”
When they got to the spot, at first all they found was the car, until an officer looked over the edge of the cliff, and found her mangled corpse at the bottom of a pile of sharp rocks, a letter to the police in her hand.
She loved him, he betrayed her. He would pay. He would suffer.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. He’d learn that the hard way.