The Short, Happy Life of a Middle-Aged Housewife

A SHORT STORY by the author of the award nominated novel, "Starfish".

They say there are moments when time stops. This is one of them. The chromatic blue of the sky, the ultra-bright rays of the sun, the screech of a distant blue jay are etched in acid on your brain pan. Then a shadow – huge, primate shaped – blocks the sun and your gaze rests upon snarling lips and the twisted claws that will rip the features from your face in one agonizing jerk. Because you close your eyes as you squeeze the trigger, you don’t see the sky explode in a spray of crimson. You are, however, pelted by the shower of bone and sinew, remnants of a hideous party balloon blown to rubbery, fur covered bits.