Dead Village Read Online Free Page A
Author: Gerry Tate
divert his look away from the woman, but some force, something he couldnât explain, held his stare like a vice.
He felt the blood drain from his face as he tried to turn away from the unreal, almost frightening situation. He just couldnât seem to draw his head away though, and he felt as though he was captured in some strong hypnotic beacon.
Then from somewhere across the room, a plate smashed, and Dan was released from his trance. The woman continued to hold the look though, and stood staring intently at him, her angry eyes blazing. He could feel her stares, almost burning into him as he looked down to the table.
Dan wondered why no one had approached this woman. How in Gods name could someone like her come into a place like this, in her condition? I mean, sheâs standing there, dressed like a goddamn bag lady, yet everyone is just ignoring her, he thought.
He stared across to the bar, but no one there seemed to take notice of the woman as they busily attended to their duties. Then he glanced high toward the ceiling, before looking back to his family.
He made some small talk about the weather, which took all of about ten seconds, then he looked quickly up toward the entrance again and scanned around. She was gone, and somehow he felt relieved, but a strange feeling of loss also ran through him, although he couldnât understand why. He smiled at Lynn, and when she seductively returned the smile, he thought himself at that moment to be the luckiest man on Gods green earth.
Lynn had stood by him through these worrying times, and had shown just how much she cared for him, and he looked affectionately at her, his smile broadening.
He was still swirling the wine, and he was still smiling, when someone tapped him from behind, firmly on his shoulder. It was her.
âYou bastard,â the woman yelled. âHow could you do this to me Dan?â she sobbed.
Dan sat his swirling glass down and glanced surprisingly at Lynn before speaking to the crazed looking woman, who was now shaking profusely.
âHow do you know my name? Do I know you lady?â Dan asked, puzzled.
âOh so now youâre pretending you donât know me in front of that scrawny little bitch,â she replied, pointing at Lynn.
âAll those years we shared together, they meant nothing to you! Why I gave my life for you. You were everything to me, my world, I, I loved you,â she sobbed.
âYour world? You loved me? Listen lady, you obviously need some help here. I donât know who the hell you are. Why Iâve never even met you before.â
âIâm Beatrice you sonofabitch, Iâm youâre wife,â she screamed. âYou belong to me, do you understand?â
âMy wife? I belong to y ⦠?â Dan gulped.
âYes, your wife, you bastard,â she interrupted.
âThis is my wife, my family,â he said as he pointed across the table.
âNo, Iâm your wife,â the woman yelled.
âWaiter,â Dan shouted, and waved frantically to the tall head waiter, who seemed to be transfixed as he stood statue like, just inside the entrance.
The head waiter was staring down at them in disbelief, but he was also trying hard not to get involved in the embarrassing situation unfolding in front of him, as he pretended to wipe something from his lapel.
âGo away lady, please,â Dan ordered the woman.
âIâm your wife, do you hear me? Iâm your wife,â She sobbed.
âIâm telling you lady, you better get the hell out of here,â Dan replied, with some nervousness in his voice that dispelled any aura of authority.
The woman turned, walked two or three steps, but quickly spun around and doubled back.
She lifted Danâs glass and threw the red wine that was still swirling slightly, into his face, stinging his eyes as the wine ran down his cheeks and onto his white shirt and suit collar.
âPig,â she shrieked, before walking
He felt the blood drain from his face as he tried to turn away from the unreal, almost frightening situation. He just couldnât seem to draw his head away though, and he felt as though he was captured in some strong hypnotic beacon.
Then from somewhere across the room, a plate smashed, and Dan was released from his trance. The woman continued to hold the look though, and stood staring intently at him, her angry eyes blazing. He could feel her stares, almost burning into him as he looked down to the table.
Dan wondered why no one had approached this woman. How in Gods name could someone like her come into a place like this, in her condition? I mean, sheâs standing there, dressed like a goddamn bag lady, yet everyone is just ignoring her, he thought.
He stared across to the bar, but no one there seemed to take notice of the woman as they busily attended to their duties. Then he glanced high toward the ceiling, before looking back to his family.
He made some small talk about the weather, which took all of about ten seconds, then he looked quickly up toward the entrance again and scanned around. She was gone, and somehow he felt relieved, but a strange feeling of loss also ran through him, although he couldnât understand why. He smiled at Lynn, and when she seductively returned the smile, he thought himself at that moment to be the luckiest man on Gods green earth.
Lynn had stood by him through these worrying times, and had shown just how much she cared for him, and he looked affectionately at her, his smile broadening.
He was still swirling the wine, and he was still smiling, when someone tapped him from behind, firmly on his shoulder. It was her.
âYou bastard,â the woman yelled. âHow could you do this to me Dan?â she sobbed.
Dan sat his swirling glass down and glanced surprisingly at Lynn before speaking to the crazed looking woman, who was now shaking profusely.
âHow do you know my name? Do I know you lady?â Dan asked, puzzled.
âOh so now youâre pretending you donât know me in front of that scrawny little bitch,â she replied, pointing at Lynn.
âAll those years we shared together, they meant nothing to you! Why I gave my life for you. You were everything to me, my world, I, I loved you,â she sobbed.
âYour world? You loved me? Listen lady, you obviously need some help here. I donât know who the hell you are. Why Iâve never even met you before.â
âIâm Beatrice you sonofabitch, Iâm youâre wife,â she screamed. âYou belong to me, do you understand?â
âMy wife? I belong to y ⦠?â Dan gulped.
âYes, your wife, you bastard,â she interrupted.
âThis is my wife, my family,â he said as he pointed across the table.
âNo, Iâm your wife,â the woman yelled.
âWaiter,â Dan shouted, and waved frantically to the tall head waiter, who seemed to be transfixed as he stood statue like, just inside the entrance.
The head waiter was staring down at them in disbelief, but he was also trying hard not to get involved in the embarrassing situation unfolding in front of him, as he pretended to wipe something from his lapel.
âGo away lady, please,â Dan ordered the woman.
âIâm your wife, do you hear me? Iâm your wife,â She sobbed.
âIâm telling you lady, you better get the hell out of here,â Dan replied, with some nervousness in his voice that dispelled any aura of authority.
The woman turned, walked two or three steps, but quickly spun around and doubled back.
She lifted Danâs glass and threw the red wine that was still swirling slightly, into his face, stinging his eyes as the wine ran down his cheeks and onto his white shirt and suit collar.
âPig,â she shrieked, before walking
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