by Robert Vaughan
The moment I opened the door, I knew something was wrong. He paced in the kitchen, told me how, not why.
"Let's sit down," I said. I turned off Entertainment Tonight. My hand shook as I set down the remote.
"She came at me with a knife. I had to do it. She was gonna kill me." He covered his face with his hands.
"Where…is she?"
He stood up as if to go. Sat back down. "I buried her."
Shocked, I knew what we had to do. "Does anybody else know?"
Shook his head no.
"We have to call the police."
"NO—" he protested. "Mom, please."
"I'm sorry, Mark. But you told me." My voice shook. "Now I'm implicated." I waited for him to respond, but he just sat there, head hung. "When you're ready, make that call. Don't force me to."
While he dialed, my heart nailed itself to the cross. Everything we'd worked for, poured ourselves into. Gone. I couldn't breathe. Our only son.
After he hung up he said, "Do you have any chocolate milk?"
Robert Vaughan's plays have been produced in N.Y.C., L.A., S.F., and Milwaukee where he resides. He leads two writing roundtables for Redbird- Redoak Studio. His prose and poetry is published in over 200 literary journals such as Elimae, Metazen, Necessary Fiction and BlazeVOX. He has short stories anthologized in Nouns of Assemblage from Housefire, and Stripped from P.S. Books. He is a fiction editor at JMWW magazine, and Thunderclap! Press. He co-hosts Flash Fiction Fridays for WUWM's Lake Effect. His blog: http://rgv7735.wordpress.com.