Twice On Saturdays
The Insecure Writers' Support Group First Wednesday!
Dear Readers,
When I was trying to come up with a story for this Weekly Dose of Fiction, I was combing through a folder I call Fits and Starts. I found four lines that I’d written over ten years ago. They’ve been patiently awaiting a story for a long time, so I felt it was time to finish what I’d started and forgotten. Also, this is for Gabi and Liz. Enjoy your play together!
NOTE: The #IWSG question this month is interesting. I had to think a bit before answering.
Twice On Saturday
That Saturday, Clark strangled Riva better than any time before. Everybody said so, except Riva, who always found fault with him.
"Look at these bruises! What were you trying to do, kill me?”
He was. Every night and twice on Saturdays. Wasn't that the point?
He sat and faced the mirror, slathering on cold cream. Having something to do with his hands kept him from actually murdering his wife--had done for the last fifteen years.
While she stomped around their dressing room, with a steady stream of complaint, he swiped the Othello-tinted makeup from his face and removed the wig of dark curls. With a sigh, he carefully combed long strands of hair from left to right so they lay in thin lines across the top of his head. At one time, he didn’t need a wig for this role and had a standing appointment with a stylist to keep his thick black mop controlled.
Those were the days when fans thronged the stage door for his autograph. He glanced at the picture on his makeup table. 1980.
“Clark, did you hear me?”
How could he not? Riva had a bullhorn of a voice—one of her cultivated talents for the stage that she forgot to turn off when she wasn’t framed by the proscenium arch.
“Yes, Riva.”
She stepped from behind the folding screen, her gold-threaded kraftan floating around her as if caught in a Mesopotamian breeze.
Once, that long, gliding stride of hers was an enchantment.
He stood and pulled on his pants, a fresh turtleneck, and a jacket. They would have an early dinner, then go back to the apartment. Long gone were the post-performance gatherings with other noted actors and producers. And after two Othellos, he welcomed an early night. Also, he’d made a rather important decision, and a good sleep would help him put the final details into place.
He’d launched the first stage in this plan two years ago when he purchased the million-dollar life insurance policy. That was when audiences were giving Riva standing ovations for her role as Martha in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolfe? How could she not be great? Albee wrote that play for her. He, Clark Manville, on the other hand, had actually acted, but the audience overlooked that fact.
The second part of his plan had been a bit more challenging, but he’d finally found the two items he needed. There was something to be said for the modern age of Google.
That next Saturday, his first performance had been uninspired. Riva’s pedestrian. He was preoccupied. She was irascible—a new stage hand had called her Mrs. Manville.
This second performance was going quite well, and now it was time for the big scene.
“And for God's sakes, don’t upstage me on that scene again. Seriously, Clark.” She shook her head at him, her chin tilted in contempt, before sweeping out the dressing room door to take her place on the set.
It was almost time. The curtain was going up. Act V, Scene ii. He adjusted the wig and checked his makeup. Then he slid the hypodermic needle inside his sash.
So that was fun, and now on to this month’s #IWSG Question
The awesome co-hosts for the July 2 posting of the IWSG are Rebecca Douglass, Natalie Aguirre, Cathrina Constantine, and Louise Barbour!
Remember, the question is optional!
Is there a genre you haven't tried writing in yet that you really want to try? If so, do you plan on trying it?
Answer to Question #1…Yes. To Question #2…No. I’d love to be able to write a mystery, but I do not have the skills for doing that, and I’m too lazy to acquire them. Instead, I voraciously gobble them up as my reading relaxation, usually when I’m in the middle of a non-fiction book or something literary that requires thinking. A good mystery is like a mini cruise for me. I love them.
If you enjoy my fiction, all of my books are on Amazon
Five friends plan their futures. One obsessed loner plots escape. The collision between them will be fatal.
Oh Lee, you always leave us in suspense. Nice writing and I think you'd be good at mysteries.
I didn't expect that needle. As for #IWSG, being on Substack bumped me out of my rut. I've branched out with good results so far.