Heavy Rain
1
30 years ago Victoria had been beautiful. One could have even gone as far to call her stunning. She had luscious chestnut locks, a full bosom, an hourglass figure, and a smile to light up the room. Young, naive Jack Hall was in desperate need of something pretty to hold his right arm, to be seen holding his right arm, and it was that reason exactly he overlooked her personality flaws and managed to squeeze a ring onto her finger.
Now of course, three decades and two children later it was apparent to anybody she had seen finer days. The mousy brown hair was now streaked with grey, the once perfect figure now painfully slim, and her tightly powdered face always held in a position of concentration so strained it was nearly impossible to imagine it relaxed and asleep. It was now Jack had come to realise he had been in love with her image, not her. She was a snake. Sly, sneaky and determined she had ruined his life in every way possible. And he was sick of it.
Of course, he himself was not exactly one to complain. At age 54 Jack's full head of hair was wearing rather thin, his liver-spotted skin left much to be desired in the way of complexion, and his drinking habit had led to a rather enlarged stomach. Neither husband nor wife were particularly familiar with the act of smiling; the majority of their evenings were spent in front of the TV. Jack would slouch on the sofa with a beer can in his hand looking solemnly at the screen, Victoria perched on the end of her armchair scowling at him - constantly reminding him not to leave the can there, to turn off the blasted TV and to do something useful for once in his life.
It was no surprise to anybody that knew the couple that their two children - Louise and David - had both up stakes and moved as far away from their parents the second they had each hit 18. They visited a maximum of once every other year and neither party seemed too excited about the trip. Louise now had two daughters - 8 year old Hayley and 6 year old Faye - and the sad truth was neither children would recognise their grandparents if they saw them. Victoria and Jack accepted this - after all, that was just how things were.
Often Jack would wonder if they were doing something wrong, he would wonder why other grandparents seemed to care if their precious angel got a gold star at school or lost a tooth. He personally couldn't stick the two girls, and on the rare occasions he had seen them (he'd only met them 3/4 times) he had been only too happy to go home again. Was that particularly odd? However these trains of thought were interrupted more often that not by a painful prod in his podgy shoulder, followed by a distinctly high pitched screech about something needing doing. Now was most certainly one of those times.
"Jack!" hissed his wife. "Jack!" she poked her bony old finger into the fat shoulder protruding from his filthy vest before continuing. "Y'er a mess. Clean yerself up, look at this vest!! I 'aven't washed this since January you old beggar!! Come on now, an don't you DARE leave that rotten old can to fester in here!!"
Oh yes, seeing her spiteful little face sinking slowly to the bottom of the lake would most certainly be a pleasure.
Now of course, three decades and two children later it was apparent to anybody she had seen finer days. The mousy brown hair was now streaked with grey, the once perfect figure now painfully slim, and her tightly powdered face always held in a position of concentration so strained it was nearly impossible to imagine it relaxed and asleep. It was now Jack had come to realise he had been in love with her image, not her. She was a snake. Sly, sneaky and determined she had ruined his life in every way possible. And he was sick of it.
Of course, he himself was not exactly one to complain. At age 54 Jack's full head of hair was wearing rather thin, his liver-spotted skin left much to be desired in the way of complexion, and his drinking habit had led to a rather enlarged stomach. Neither husband nor wife were particularly familiar with the act of smiling; the majority of their evenings were spent in front of the TV. Jack would slouch on the sofa with a beer can in his hand looking solemnly at the screen, Victoria perched on the end of her armchair scowling at him - constantly reminding him not to leave the can there, to turn off the blasted TV and to do something useful for once in his life.
It was no surprise to anybody that knew the couple that their two children - Louise and David - had both up stakes and moved as far away from their parents the second they had each hit 18. They visited a maximum of once every other year and neither party seemed too excited about the trip. Louise now had two daughters - 8 year old Hayley and 6 year old Faye - and the sad truth was neither children would recognise their grandparents if they saw them. Victoria and Jack accepted this - after all, that was just how things were.
Often Jack would wonder if they were doing something wrong, he would wonder why other grandparents seemed to care if their precious angel got a gold star at school or lost a tooth. He personally couldn't stick the two girls, and on the rare occasions he had seen them (he'd only met them 3/4 times) he had been only too happy to go home again. Was that particularly odd? However these trains of thought were interrupted more often that not by a painful prod in his podgy shoulder, followed by a distinctly high pitched screech about something needing doing. Now was most certainly one of those times.
"Jack!" hissed his wife. "Jack!" she poked her bony old finger into the fat shoulder protruding from his filthy vest before continuing. "Y'er a mess. Clean yerself up, look at this vest!! I 'aven't washed this since January you old beggar!! Come on now, an don't you DARE leave that rotten old can to fester in here!!"
Oh yes, seeing her spiteful little face sinking slowly to the bottom of the lake would most certainly be a pleasure.