She has been watching the icicles grow for weeks. From her bedroom window, she has the perfect view. There aren’t many left, most of them have gone during practice. There’s one in particular she thinks’ll do the trick.
‘Vicky, downstairs. I’m leaving.’
‘I’ll take the school bus.’
She boils the kettle and pours water into the mug. Not too much, she doesn’t want it to fall too fast.
Downstairs, he stomps doorward. She begins the countdown. Throws the water at the icicle. He opens, then slams the door, making the house shake.
The icicle doesn’t fall.
He lives another day.
This is really good, Sonya!
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Thank you, Annie 🙂
And didn’t I tell you the Sharks are useless on home ice?
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You’re welcome! 🙂
I was going to say, sorry about hockey… And yes you did tell me that 🙂
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Sometimes I hate it when I’m right 😀
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😀
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Wow, he must be a bad man if she is trying to kill him everyday. Or maybe she is an evil child?
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She might be. Or maybe he is a bad man. I’ve not decided… Thanks, Amanda!
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Wow! This story can take so many dimensions! Brilliant!
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Thank you, Rashmi! Glad you enjoyed it 🙂
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Ha! love that. The perfect crime, do you think? Maybe not. These days the police would probably be able to tell hot water had been poured on the icicle. Maybe if she’d just turned her radiator up full, so the heat spilling from her bedroom window gradually melted it …
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They probably would, I reckon. I mean, why did she have a kettle in her room in the first place? That’s got to look fishy… I’ll pass on the radiator suggestion 😀
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Oops! Does that mean the police will track this conversation after the fact? Could I be cited as an accessory, the mastermind of murder?
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There’s always tomorrow! Great story.
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Yes, there is… Thanks, Jenn!
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