Hazard Of Misfortune

• Krystal Longman, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2009

“I’m going out to the butchers dear,” Chloe yelled, as she walked out the front door of their apartment. Her husband, Tom, was starting to get suspicious of Chloe’s late night calls and her constant visits to the butcher. Tom and Chloe were rather young and had been together for a while now. He jotted his theories of what his wife may be doing.

That night, he glanced at the stars wondering about what was going on. He noticed an article lying on the side cabinet. He picked it up. It was titled Gypsy Shekirra. She was a professional fortune teller. Tom was never into Gypsies nor believed in them either, but he was desperate. Later on that night, while Chloe was fast asleep, he tiptoed out and swung on his large jacket, slipping the article into his pocket.

Tom walked down the dead streets of Melbourne, kicking the rubbish in front of him along the concrete that was dressed in graffiti. He knocked on the door where the Gypsy was deemed to live. A lady answered, her eyes scanned his body from head to toe.

“C’mon in,” the tall, bulky Gypsy known as Shekirra mumbled in her deep tone. Tom explained to her is fears about his marriage. The gypsy was happy to offer her skills to tell his future.
“I, the great Shekirra, the fortune teller from the above,” she intoned, “SEE DARKNESS, NO HAPPINESS”
Shekirra dropped to the floor, starting to look green around the gills.

The ambulance came and Tom watched as the gypsy was wheeled into the back. He was informed that the lady went into a cardiac arrest overnight. All that Tom knew was that whatever the Gypsy saw in his future, it wasn’t pretty.

The week drifted on and his wife Chloe was still getting late night calls and visting the butcher too often. One night, Tom followed Chloe to the butcher, where apparently she was going to pick up some lamb for the family reunion that was coming up. Chloe walked up to an unknown man. He was tall, handsome with an athletic physique.
“Does your husband know?” the man asked, as he gave Chloe a little kiss on her left cheek.
“No, not yet and he’s starting to suspicious, so we have to give it a rest for a bit,” Chloe replied.

The two spoke for a while, then they kissed each other goodbye. As Chloe jumped into her car, Tom swung his car around and took the shortest possible way home. As he sat down on the couch, Chloe pulled up in the driveway. She walked in and Tom tried to act as normal.
“So my angel, did you get any good meat?” he asked his wife in a pleasant manner.
“I suppose it will have to do,” she replied, walking off down the hall and into the bedroom.

Tom sat still like a statue for a moment, in a deep trance thinking about his and Chloe’s relationship. Questions and answers crossed over in his mind. Could she be cheating, he wondered? After a while, he nodded off to sleep on the couch.
Tom woke up in the middle of the night to a nightmare. He banged his head in frustration against the kitchen table as he swallowed the cold water.

A week passed and Chloe had only received seven late night calls and visited the butcher six times, which was half the number in the previous week. While Chloe was across the road, Tom got the chance to read the text messages on Chloe’s phone. There were many from Ricardo Melinse.

But he couldn’t understand it. Was this the man she had been going to visit? Was he the one always calling her late at night? But Ricardo was the local newspaper editor and photographer. How did Chloe get involved with him? She was a real estate agent. Then it came to him. Late last year, about seven months ago, Chloe did an interview with the local paper.

When Chloe walked in, Tom looked over and gave her a little smile.
“Back so soon?” he asked, sliding the phone back on the coffee table.

That night when Chloe went out to meet Ricardo Melinse, Tom told her he was going to a mate’s house and would probably be home after her.
“No problem. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Chloe said as she walked out the door. Tom walked into the bathroom and grabbed his gun. He looked in the mirror, held up the gun and smirked. When her car was completely out of the street, he walked out of the door, tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants and chucked on his jacket to cover the gun. He started up his car and then tore down the street with attitude. He kept a low profile as he followed his wife into the empty streets of Melbourne.

Tom watched as his wife and Ricardo greeted each other with a kiss. Then they talked for a while. As his wife jumped into her car and swung the vehicle around, Tom drove closer to Ricardo. Tom stepped out of his car, walked up to Ricardo, pulled the gun from his pants and fired a single shot.

“NOW MY WIFE CAN’T MEET WITH YOU!”

Tom laughed deliriously and turned around, walking away from Ricardo’s inert body lying on the pavement.
“Don’t worry. She’ll get what’s coming to her,” Tom lamented, as a tear dropped from his dark brown eye.

When he arrived home, Chloe wasn’t in the lounge, so Tom guessed she must have been in the shower. He walked into the laundry, slamming the door behind him. He dropped his pants and took off his jacket, placing them in a garbage bag with the gun wrapped beneath the clothes.
“Is that you Tom?” Chloe asked in an anxious voice.
“Only me,” he answered back.
“Good. Come to bed,” Chloe said, as Tom dropped the garbage bag down the garbage shoot.
Tom walked down the hallway to the bedroom door. He took one deep breath and turned the handle. Chloe was perched on the bed.
“I think I might sleep in the lounge tonight. I need some time to think alone,” Tom whispered, turning around in the opposite direction.

Tom stared at the ceiling. Flashbacks appeared in his mind. He flipped the rug over his head and drifted off to sleep. He woke up several times during the night to the sound of gunshot.

The next morning came. The couple sat in silence while eating breaky and watching the morning show.
“So, the family reunion will be great tonight. I have organised a surprise with your boss,” Chloe said, breaking the silence.
“Mmmm,” Tom replied in an ‘I don’t care’ way.
“What’s wrong?” Chloe asked.
Tom didn’t answer. He got up and washed his plate.

The day dragged on until it was time to get ready for the reunion that night. Tom didn’t want to go, but it was a family tradition so he really had no choice.

On the way to the reunion, once again the couple sat in silence. This time Tom broke it.
“You know if you’re willing to cheat on me with Ricardo Melinse, after tonight we’re over,” Tom said in a firm voice.
“What are you on about?” Chloe argued back.
“Don’t give me that crap. I’m not dumb. You know what I’m talking about. All those late night calls!” Tom shouted.
“Those calls and the constant visits to the butcher were all part of your surprise. I was organising Ricardo to do a story about our family reunion in the local paper,” she explained.
“Is this true?” Tom asked.
“Of course it is. Your boss was planning to give you a thank-you present and a speech about you at the reunion. Is that enough for you to believe me?” she said in a sarcastic voice.
“I shot him,” Tom said very quietly.
“Who did you shoot?” she said.
“Ricardo. I shot Ricardo. I thought-,” Tom tried to finish, but Chloe interrupted.
“Let me out of the car now,” she screamed.
“No!” he yelled.
Chloe opened the car door and threw herself out into the traffic.
“No Chloe!” shrieked Tom.

But it was all too late. Tom heard horns blaring and a sickening crunch. He ran out of his car to his wife’s side. He knelt down and held her broken body in is arms tenderly. Finally the ambulance arrived and the paramedics prised Chloe out of Tom’s arms.

Tom sat on the edge of the road, with his head in his hands, as the ambulance officers worked on his wife. They pumped and pumped endlessly. At last he saw one officer shake his head at another and he knew Chloe was gone. She lay white and still on the stretcher; almost as if she were asleep. Tom got up and took off down the road on foot, looking like a dazed sleepwalker.