d-frag-r

A grey, bloody mind makes A shot gun echo through the house. Crystal vase, gilded picture frame, Royal Doulton figurines, pink plaster. They all felt it. Two floors below with pistol in hand. Five and three asleep in their beds Both jolted by a defining sound- Awake Dad knocked by a crippling pain- Asleep- Forever and more. Away at the market, mother, wife. Are the tomatoes ripe? Oblivious to the impending guilt She pays at the till While he swallows the barrel. She arrives home on the porch. Kids frantic above, he lifeless below. Decending the stairs, bread in hand Crimson pools under the door. Did she suspect? Choking on