Fast Fiction: Uppity Bitch
Of course there would be a police search out for her by now and appeals to the public... But why is the woman in Richard Mallinson's short story on the run?
She stumbled through the rain across the rutted fields. She passed two of their labourers, pottering about.
’Afternoon, missis,’ she heard, but couldn’t respond.
‘Uppity bitch,’ she caught.
She hurried to the edge of the wood in what was known as the far field. The only sound she heard was the swishing of rain on the trees and grass.
Of course there would be a police search out for her by now and appeals to the public. Should she rest there for a while or go back and give herself up?
She felt that she didn’t deserve to be punished but knew that she would be. Then she thought that prison couldn’t be any worse than living with-
A man shouted and waved his arms angrily from across the field. He came bounding towards her.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he yelled.
‘I thought you were dead,’ she said, terrified.
‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘I left you dead on the floor with a knife in -’
‘No you bloody didn’t you idiot,’ he said, jabbing at her shoulder, ‘you only think you did because that’s what you’d like to do, isn’t it?’
Then he said ‘But you never bloody will, will you, because you’re too much of a coward, aren’t you?’
He grabbed her arm and jerked her forward. She fell. He pulled her up.
‘Come on,’ he shouted ‘and stop behaving like a bloody raving neurotic.’
They went past the two labourers, still pottering about.
One said, ‘Uppity bitch’s in fer a pasting.’
‘Aye,’ said the other, ‘an she bloody well deserves it.’
She trudged along in tears behind him and when they were in the house she plunged a knife into his throat and watched him die gurgling in his own blood.
But of course it wasn’t like that at all, was it?
