The Widow

On a cool moonless night, the air was thick with fog and the only sound was the rhythmic tap of footsteps on bitumen drawing closer. A figure began to appear from the fog, slowly making the shape of a woman. As she hurried along, her thick beige coat flapped open with every step and her short, thick, chocolate hair bounced above her shoulders. She was on a mission.

Her heels continued to tap on the road as her pace quickened. Unaware of what was in front of her, her foot plunged into a dark puddle and broke her now drenched heel. As she stumbled and fell, the little black book that she had been hugging to her chest went flying as she thrust her hands out to steady herself.

"Damnit all to hell!" she cursed as she dusted herself off and threw away her shoes. "There goes my favourite pair." She sighed heavily and ran barefoot to pick up her black book that was laying on the edge of the road.

As she reached for the book, a dim glow began to grow from far beyond the fog. The mysterious woman frantically brushed off the book and hid it deep within her coat before waving down the approaching car.

A navy-blue SUV slowed to a stop and wound down their window.

“Are you okay?” a petite blonde woman asked from behind the steering wheel.

“My shoe broke and I’m just trying to get back to town, are you heading that way? Would you mind terribly if I accompanied you?” the mysterious woman inquired.

The driver looked perplexed and seemed to be weighing the chance that this other woman was a psychopath or murderer. Upon taking stock of her formal attire, scratched ankle, and dusty coat, she figured this woman was just having a really terrible night, so she opened the door.

“Where in town do you need to go?” the blonde woman queried.

“It’s not actually in town, just before it – the old manor, I have business there.”

The blonde woman glanced sideways at the poised woman sitting in her car. What business would anyone have at that old run-down place? It’s been deserted for hundreds of years!

“My husband’s last wish was to be buried there, he always played there as a child and it was a fond memory for him.”

The driver suddenly realised her mouth was agape and closed it.

“I can take you there.” She finally said with a tear in her eye.

The mysterious woman smiled a small smile and turned her attention to the road ahead. Why would she share her reasons with a complete stranger, even if she was helping her?

No, what her husband took to his grave was rightfully hers and hers alone. He had kept it from her when he was alive and tried to make it so he would continue to keep it from her after he died.

But he made a mistake. He left his black notebook amongst his belongings that he left to his family, who in turn, gave it back to her. The day she found that notebook had to have been one of the best and most confusing days of her life.

She opened the notebook expecting to find random notes about things he had to do but was confronted with a story about how he had stolen millions of dollars in his youth and was never caught or charged. It also detailed where the money was hidden. It was then that she decided to search for the money in spite of him because he had kept several mistresses during their marriage, and she felt like he owed her for her heartbreak.

After riding in awkward silence for 40 minutes, they arrived at the old manor.

“Thank you, I appreciate you helping me. Here, for your trouble.” Said the woman as she pulled a few notes out of her pocket and handed it to the blonde, who seemed to force a smile as she accepted and drove off in the direction of the town.

The manor was eerie at night, with tall looming, metal gates and a crumbling stone wall that was easy to step over. In the courtyard a fountain green with moss stood in the centre of a once proud garden that was now overrun with weeds. The manor itself had kept most of its structure, with the exception of a few broken windows and graffiti. It stood tall beyond the courtyard.

She stood at the fountain as described in the book and looked around for the large oak tree that was supposed to be near the crumbling stone wall. Walking along the stone wall, it didn’t take long to spot the old oak, which had been split in half by lightning in previous years and had fallen onto the wall, forcing the wall to bend outwards. Underneath the tree was a headstone with the simple inscription of her husband’s name.

Filled with excitement and eagerness to have her millions, she searched for something to dig up his grave. A little ways away from the manor was a rusty old garden shed, its door hanging on by only the bottom hinge and the roof would lift with every gust of wind. Surely there would be a shovel in there, even if it only held together long enough to reach the casket.

Determined, she raced to the shed, squelching through the overgrown garden as she ran. None of that mattered now. Her goal was what mattered.

The garden shed was dark, dusty, and full of junk. She cursed under her breath and began stepping carefully over and around the strange objects, she had already busted her ankle, she didn’t want to cause any more damage to herself.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she kicked a long, familiar object with her already scratched and bruised foot.

“Well that was ironic..” she muttered to herself as she picked up the shovel. The pain in her foot and ankle made it more difficult to manoeuvre back through the shed. Limping slightly, she made her way to her husband’s grave and put the shovel to work.

After a long, difficult and exhausting dig, her shovel reverberated and snapped after it struck against a solid object. She tossed it off to the side and hastily began pushing the dirt off the casket that was buried deep in the grave. Once it was uncovered, she opened the lid to reveal the remains of her long-dead husband and the trunk he had taken to the grave with him. She heaved the trunk out onto the grass and took a moment to catch her breath. It had been 15 years since he had been buried with this trunk to keep it away from her. She blew him a kiss and left the grave open and decimated for the feral dogs to find his bones. It was what he deserved.

This was it.

Her search was over.

She would finally have her rightful inheritance.

Eager, she began bashing at the lock with a large stone that she had found, her body covered in dirt and grime.

“Yes!” she cried as it finally gave way, and she forced the trunk open. Inside was a note:

My darling wife,

I lied.

Your loving husband.

Her heart dropped.

“Is this it?!” she cried frantically while counting out the bundles. “There’s only about $20 000 here! There was supposed to be more!”

She sobbed into the empty night. Her dream destroyed; her time wasted.

Furious, she took out her husband’s little black notebook and burned it on the spot. It would not help her now.