These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. I try to do them in 101 words but sometime not. . The prompt was ‘Coffin Candy’
“Harold? Are you there” came a voice through the darkness.
Harold said nothing, the all too familiar shrill tone conjouring up memories he would much rather forget.
“Harold? Harold?” She continued. “I know you’re here. Where are you.”
Harold sighed. “Hello dear” he said with considerably less gusto than his recently departed significant other might have expected.
“Is that it?” she snapped. “After all these years that is the best you can muster. ‘Hello dear’?”
“How are you?” Harold continued.
“How am I? Good god man how the dickens do you think I am. This is all very much a shock let me tell you.” Her voice was as shrill as a boiling kettle whistle. which reminded him that it had been quite some time since he had enjoyed a nice cup of tea.
Harold sighed again. He really had been enjoying the peace and quiet very much up until this point and knew he was not going to get even a biscuit never mind a cup of tea.
“Who’s that?” came a third voice. “Have you got someone with you Harold?”
The best Harold could muster was “Oh shit” as the kettle voiced woman exploded in a fit of rage.
“Who is she?” she bellowed. “Where is she Harold, get her out here right now. Come on, where is she hiding. Put on a bloody light man.”
Harold waited for her to stop shouting before quite calmly explaining that there were no lights and that was Carole from next door.
“Carole? Carole?” she exploded again. “Bit familiar don’t you think. Where is she Harold? Under the bed.”
“No dear, she’s next door.” Harold explained. “She’s just a friend.”
“Oh thanks Harold” said Carole sounding rather hurt. “I thought I was more than that. That’s just great.”
“Im sorry” Harold replied. “I thought…” He waited for a moment.
“You thought what Harold? You thought I wouldn’t find out? Is that it?”
Harold cleared his throat. “Carole, this is…was… my wife Julie.”
“Is she crying?” Julie asked, not waiting for a reply. “You can bloody well cry all you want dear” she said raising her voice and shouting into the darkness. “I’d remind you that’s my husband thank you very much. And what exactly do you mean by ‘was’?” she snapped savagely turning her attention back to Harold.
“Well…” Harold said his voice wavering. Harold remembered with great displeasure that Julie was about as patient as she was pleasant.
Perhaps a joint burial plot hadn’t been the best idea after all…