If he hadn’t called me a “bunny boiler” none of this would have happened. I mean, wasn’t it bad enough that he left me – after eighteen years of marriage – for a girl half my age with pneumatic breasts (which he paid for, I might add, out of our life savings) and fake nails? What did he expect me to do? Take the shame of it lying down? Of course he did. He’d been wiping his feet all over the doormat of my personality for almost twenty years: why would he think that I’d react any differently once I found out what he’d done?
I have to admit that I surprised myself with the ferocity of my reaction, though. It wasn’t because I loved him desperately, or couldn’t live without him. No. It was more the realisation of the true depth of his disregard for me. I thought: eighteen years and this is what I get? I thought about everything I’d given up to make him happy: I’d abandoned my degree because he needed his wife’s support; I suffocated my dreams in the cesspit of housework and a supermarket smock; I gave up on my yearning for children because he didn’t want them to interfere in our lifestyle. And this was my thanks? We had a deal and I just couldn’t comprehend that he’d renege on it.
If he’d shown some tiny, miniscule indication of remorse, then it might not have panned out the way it did. But then it was my turn to be realistic. What made me think that he’d actually take anyone’s feelings into consideration except his own? It’s not like I didn’t know what he was like. It’s just that I didn’t know, even after all the years together, what he was capable of.
The nasty comment arose after he’d deliberately defaulted on the mortgage and caused the home we’d shared since our wedding day to be repossessed. I telephoned him, of course. I begged him not to turn me out, but he told me I was being unreasonable and that I was more than capable of fending for myself and that the house was too big for me anyway. If I’d had children, he wouldn’t have been able to do it. If I’d had children, perhaps he wouldn’t have found it so easy to leave me. If I’d had children, maybe I wouldn’t have minded so much.
And then they started taking holidays together, in Barbados, and the Canaries, and a short break to Turin. When they were off on one of their jaunts – to Barcelona according to the woman in the cake shop – I was leafing through our photo albums, a bottle of whiskey and box of éclairs to hand, searching for holiday snaps of our own. And the realisation blossomed like a developing photograph that we hadn’t been on holiday for over five years. He’d always said that we hadn’t been able to afford it when he was with me …
I gazed down through the long tunnel of our years together, and the more I drank, the more jumbled it became, a stew of grainy mind-movies and snatches of conversations long-buried. I roasted myself in the oven of his abandonment, basted myself with the hot oil of every argument and I began to crisp and curl around the edges, the burnt meat of my life charring into an unedifying husk, shrivelled as my empty womb.
But I wouldn’t have started on the campaign if I hadn’t passed by the shop on the day the solicitor’s letter arrived. I saw the outfit hanging up in the window, so pristinely white and almost virginal that it brought to mind our wedding day. Then I remembered the words he’d shouted over the phone and my feet were inside the shop and my hand was inside my purse before I realised what I was doing.
When I put it on I felt an indescribably illicit thrill. I wasn’t prepared for the incredible surge of power that materialised as I disappeared inside it. The me inside was gone, transformed into a different creature. A powerful creature. The eyes that stared at me in the mirror were two fiery sparks blazing with purpose.
This, I thought, was a creature on a mission.
The first time I went out in the outfit, it was one-thirty-two a.m. and I ended up outside their love nest. I saw his car parked outside – a brand-new BMW 5 Series with leather upholstery and aluminium stick shift, no less – and The Other Me gripped my car keys and impregnated the lustrous black metal with an horrifically jagged, silvery scar. The Other Me strolled away in the darkness, feeling liberated and reckless and invincible.
When I got back home and took off the outfit, I was almost sick with fright at the thought of what The Other Me had done. Bad T.O.M.! But I laughed all the same and poured myself a large whiskey – and I toasted the deflated skin lying discarded on the bedroom floor for having the courage to do what I’d been afraid to. For TOM, it appeared, there were no consequences. TOM was a free spirit, a creature of the night.
The next time TOM ventured out, it was to spray-paint their front door with the words “Boil This!” and a swear word alluding to fornicating something I would never be. The next day he phoned me and I had to hold the receiver away from my ear while he ranted on about how frightened Little Miss Fake-It had been. After a while, I put the receiver on the hall table and wandered off to make myself a cup of tea. Then I watched Countdown and ate two packets of Jaffa cakes and two cream slices and didn’t realise I was crying until the snot ran into my tea.
I decided then that TOM needed to stay in the wardrobe, but I hadn’t counted on what a greedy, vengeful creature it was turning out to be. Once TOM had been introduced to the dark consciousness of my night, it wanted to come out to play all the time. I knew that it was making things dangerous for me, but I just wasn’t strong enough to say No.
TOM had so much to say, you see, and it wasn’t in me to deny it a voice.
TOM spent more and more time out of the closet, while I spent more and more time hiding inside it. But the campaign stepped up a gear when I found myself in the cake shop and overheard one of my neighbours informing another neighbour – very loudly, just to make sure I heard it all properly – that Pneumatic Girlfriend was pregnant.
It all gets a bit hazy after that. There was a lot of blood; I remember that. Crimson as my pointless menses, it bloomed against the stark virginity of the outfit. And I remember how mesmerised I was at the glinting of the sun along the edge of the blade as it danced in my hand.
I remember her screams.
And as the air was punctured with a different kind of screaming and my eyes were assaulted with the flashing of blue lights, I looked down at the remains of my marriage, crumpled on the pavement in front me, and I remember thinking: being a widow has more cachet than being a divorcée. I laughed wildly when I realised my words had rhymed, and as the uniforms insulated me against the howls of ceaseless screaming, I thought to myself: who’d have thought that I would be capable of poetry?
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This 63 word review has not been unlocked.
I liked this a great deal. It flows well and is expressive. I felt that it accelerated too quickly, just as it was getting good. Relative pace is the biggest issue.
I think we all harbour our little delights in seeing someone get their own back on some shitheel. I’d rather have had a bit more of that, the “dessert” in “just deserts”. That actually went too fast. We didn’t get to the scratching of paint until the 10th paragraph. 2 paragraphs for the scratching scene itself, and then in the next five paragraphs: one for painting the door, two for inner conflict, one for finding the girlfriend is pregnant, and by the fifth she has blood all over and a knife in her hand. It is too quick, and so there is far too much we don’t “get” from the story.
I also felt the denouement was strained. It was an end, but I wondered what the basic story was. Was it simply that people can get angry at abuse? Was it about suppression leading to over-reaction, the creation of an “alter-ego”? Was it about an unusual introduction to creating poetry? Whatever it was, it was not entirely clear, so this worked more for me as a fragment than as a short story. Even if you’d started with, “I’m a poet now” and finished with writing and looking out the barred window, it could have worked. But ultimately, aside from a notion of revenge out of control, I didn’t get the sense of the story. Which didn’t stop me from enjoying the descriptions or empathising with the character. It just stopped it becoming transformative. I had to rate the chance of publication low for these reasons.
A few little points – _of my reaction, though. _ – The “though” weakens the line, and is unnecessary.
arose after he’d deliberately defaulted on the mortgage and caused the home we’d shared since our wedding day to be repossessed. – Most 18 year mortgages would result in someone having a fair bit of equity in a house. If he left her the house even if it was re-possessed, she’d probably get a bit of money, maybe a substantial bit. Of course, that doesn’t account for “sentimental value”, all the love and work she might have put into it, but you need to state such value. You could make him an utter cad, by having him re-mortgage the house to the maximum based on current value just before leaving her. This would mean there was virtually no equity. If the bank sold, they might charge her administration fees, plus the cost of the estate-agents fee, and so on, and she may have nothing, or even a debt. It would also mean the assets were gone, and there is nothing to divide in a divorce. The bank could even sell furniture to cover their costs. (My sister went through one of these.)
I laughed with your oven/baking metaphor. It is really excellent. I do admit to wondering strongly whether this will follow Life and Loves of a She-Devil once she spots the dress.
I’d actually have liked more description of the white dress. Was it a wedding dress? Was it like that? Or some elegant cocktail number? Or what?
_and impregnated the lustrous black metal _ – “impregnated” sounds like the wrong word for what a key does to paint and metal. “violated”?
The part where she was suddenly crying bothered me. If she is becoming seriously schizoid, you need to indicate this, maybe by showing us the personality of TOM, or by letting her develop real fear of TOM, almost as an alien presence. Let her observe and tell of the behaviour of TOM as if it was a separate being. Ramp up the tension as the parts of her become more disjunct.
_but I hadn’t counted on what a greedy, vengeful creature it was turning out to be. _ – This is really your opening for showing us, instead of telling it (too briefly).
_TOM had so much to say, you see, and it wasn’t in me to deny it a voice. _ – This line is wonderful, and elegant, and speaks of suppressed personality and a history of “giving way”. It shows the inner “how” TOM could take over, but you don’t show the actions of TOM at all, only tell.
The final point: it seems extremely sad that the vengeance fell entirely on the “other woman” and the shitheel husband appears to have escaped almost entirely.
This 37 word review has not been unlocked.
You are working with a good story, but it needs some tightening up. The narrative flow is kind of choppy: important details pop up out of nowhere and then recede back into the darkness. The narrator’s lack of children is, without a doubt, the heart of this story. The affair, TOM, and the eventual rampage all follow childlessness. I was a little confused, though: does the narrator not have children because her husband did not want them, or because she is barren? There is a world of difference between the two, and it must be made clear which is the case. Either way, focus more on the lack of children and how it affects the narrator. At present the extreme end scene seems unbelievable because the reader hasn’t really seen the depth of emotional trauma the narrator has experienced. She cries, yes, and has been left for a plastic little thing and has suffered indignities, but simply mentioning them is not enough. I want to feel the experiences. Also, describe the outfit, and the way the narrator looks usually versus when it is on. Be specific, so that it seems a complete transformation. I suspect the narrator usually looks worried, down-trodden with a nervous twitch in her hand perhaps, and her back is probably not straight and her head remains down and her hair tousled all the time. That is the sort of state I imagine her in. But when she changes…she must be four inches taller with radiant hair and steady nerves and that sort of thing. Make the descent more gradual at first. Make it appear like nothing is wrong, then add a problem, then another and another until the narrator and TOM are indistinguishable. That is where she snaps. Give the character proper motivation, is what I’m saying. I like this story, I really do. You could make this a fantastic tale with some work.
This 439 word review has not been unlocked.
By paragraph:
(1) questions, Questions, QUESTIONS! Hooked by the first sentence: what does she mean by “bunny boiler?” As a reader I must know the backstory for this. So, obviously I must read on …
You bring the funny and the sense of tragedy without sacrificing either one. Very confessional. I can gather so much about the narrator from the start: a woman—jilted lover who has done something quite unexpected.
(2) It continues to flow. The momentum of the 1st para goes on nicely. Once gripe: nothing is really answered from the opening. There is good background and nice exposition of the conflict, but my mouth is getting dry. I need something wet to read.
(3) More dryness. You do save it with the closing: what is he capable of? Now I want to know that too? What did this guy do?
(4) Answers. Thank you.
(5) Very wet. A feast for the eyes. It’s like eavesdropping on the neighbours. This is a good thing I think. Personal maxim: Good writing should make you feel guilty while reading it.
(6) The visual images I get are not good. Though it’s a hell of a paragraph it doesnt seem to fit.
(7) Yes. Exposition with escalating tension. * I just noticed that few of your questions have been answered, but at this point I do not care. i suppose this means you have snared me.
(8 & 9) ”The me inside was gone.” Have a drink for coming up with that.
It continues to flow, except for the “fiery eyes.” Is this in your mind or did this really happen? I’m confused at this point weither I am reading a real confessional or some sort of sci-fi.
(10) 1 question answered.
(11) Confused by T.O.M. (for a second I had thought I was wrong assuming the narrator was a woman, but on a second reading was educated) I do not think other readers will have this problem, but I wish to be honest and point out everything that happens while I read this.
(12) A referance to the first paragraph does not answer the question. Why bunny boiler?
(13-14) Boring. No conflict. No sex or violence. You could spice this up. You’re better than this. It shows.
(15) See. Here we go …
(16) Have another drink. 3rd and 4th paragraph are frightening and whimsical at the same time. Remember how I said your opening para has humour and tragedy? I think this is your niche.
(17) Suggestion: We already know what happens. Place this at start of 16th paragraph.
(18) Strong, but not as strong as opening paragraph. They should be cut from the same cloth and be equals. I’m still beat by “bunny boiler.” Perhaps I’ve missed something. My honesty may make me seem like a dunce.
This 14 word review has not been unlocked.
I found this surprisingly readable. The theme of a woman scorned and replaced by a younger model seemed cliched to me and I think needed more of a twist to be completely original. Saying that, I did enjoy it and found it easy to read and gripping.
I think your first paragraph lets you down a little because it has some relatively cliched references – e.g. ‘bunny boiler’ and the younger girl having pneumatic breasts and fake nails. I think if you swapped the bunny boiler insult for a more original insult from the husband it would create better expecations in the reader. Similarly, if the other woman wasn’t the cliched type it might be more interesting. If she was more ambiguous in terms of our sympathy and less of a ‘type’ I think the piece would have more depth. Obviously the wife sees her in cliched terms, but hints that this is the wife’s view not yours would again give the piece more depth I think.
The first half is less strong than the second half I think. When she starts taking revenge, it feels fresher and more interesting. The first half feels a litle held back by the standard abandonned wife’s complaints. I think bringing a bit of freshness, unique detail or emotional ambiguity in here would help the reader feel the emotional conten. For instance, maybe she wasn’t sure about children either. Or maybe she had a good job, rather than the supermarket one. Or maybe we could find out which degree she abandonned; what her dreams were. What did he look like? What did they share? That would make the ending more shocking.
I liked ‘gazed down through the long tunnel of our years together, and the more I drank, the more jumbled it became, a stew of grainy mind-movies and snatches of conversations long-buried’ but I think the second part of the sentence, while well written, is a bit overstated. I think it would be harder hitting emotionally if it was a little more economical as it begins to read like melodrama and self pity. I realise that these are the emotions your protagonist is feeling but I think a clearer distinction between the protaganists voice and the authors voice would make this more clear. For instance, I thought this was really strong ‘After a while, I put the receiver on the hall table and wandered off to make myself a cup of tea. Then I watched Countdown and ate two packets of Jaffa cakes and two cream slices and didn’t realise I was crying until the snot ran into my tea.’ – nicely understated with nice detail.
You never revealed the outfit that TOM wore to take action. I think this would have been an interesting detail and a potential dramatic twist.
‘the words “Boil This!” and a swear word alluding to fornicating something I would never be’ – I didn’t understand this. I think the grammar may be wrong.
I thought the separation worked well emotionally.
In general, I thought it was well written but needed a touch of editing to freshen up the writing so that the theme – potentially fairly cliched – became more original and more appealing.
This 35 word review has not been unlocked.
This 15 word review has not been unlocked.
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