Short Story: The Man in Her Bed

Author’s Note: I originally wrote this for a writing contest on campus. It didn’t place, but I would like to share it.

The night was grey, like most nights during that week. Rain came down hard at times, but five second later it was barely a sprinkle. On the sidewalk there was a twenty-five year old woman walking from the pharmacy that was about two miles away from where she lived. She worked a lot of hours to keep her mind occupied. Her husband had been away for what felt like forever. Her pink lips turned into a frown at the thought as her green eyes looked sad, filling with tears. She was an army wife. No, not like the television show. She had never even watched a show like that.

Water splashed in all directions causing her bright blue rain boots to be covered as she continued to walk. The wind whipped at her jean covered legs. The thunder grew louder, but no sign of lightening at the time. The rain beat down against her purple umbrella. Due to the rain and the wind, she had almost lost her umbrella on many occasions over the last week. People of a generally older age waved to her as they scurried under the nearest shelter. She would smile and wave back. The woman had been alone for so long that the slightest human interaction helped her get through the day. Cars drove by slowly, which seemed to be awfully normal in this town when it rained even the slightest bit.

Once she got to the section where she lived, houses were lined up close, but not too close. They were somewhere between six to ten feet away from each other, though it wouldn’t matter much. The neighbors were nice and quiet in the little town. Most where headed to bed by the time the woman passed by their houses. The houses generally looked the same. They may have had a few differences in color, placing of a window, or maybe the size of the porch, but when it came down to it, they were all about the same size and all two-story houses.

Once her house was reached, she walked up onto her small concrete porch that held only one brown wicker chair beside the door. She stuck her key into the lock of her small two bedroom yellow and white house. The turning of the key made the lock click signaling it could be opened. Laying the umbrella down on the porch and leaving it there for the night, she grasped the handle and jiggled it a bit before actually twisting it to open the door. That was a trick that took her a whole month to learn with the troublesome door. She stepped in on a brown and cream rectangular rug where she slipped off her rain boots and closed the door behind her. She turned the lock before placing her keys in a clear glass dish on a small, nearby table. Walking on down the little hallway-that had been painted an aqua color to show her love of the color blue- to the kitchen, she slipped off her green rain coat and let it fall to the floor. She didn’t care much for anything at this point of the day. The house would be cleaned the next day on her day off, or so she always told herself. She always put it off until last minute.

“Oof,” she grunted as she tripped over a bag in the floor causing her own purse to fall from her shoulder and dispose its contents onto the carpeted floor. She hadn’t remembered leaving a bag there, but with her state of mind lately, she didn’t question it.
She sat there with her legs folded behind her for a bit as she tried to fight the urge to scream out her frustration to the world. Her hands tugged the black hair tie out of her long hair. The light brown hair fell down with a little wave to it from the sloppy bun it had been in all day. She forced herself to get up by propping one leg up in a bent knee position and pushing up on that knee with her hand as she threw the hair tie down onto the carpet.

Grumbling about her frustration, she made her way to the kitchen to grab an apple to eat before crawling into her cold bed.  The light was flipped on without much of an effort as she stepped through the doorway of the kitchen. The apples were place in a yellow bowl on the blue marble counter beside the fridge. She grabbed one and bit into the red apple that didn’t have much of a taste to her. Taste wasn’t something she had much of anymore when it came to food.

The apple didn’t take long to disappear. She walked out the second doorway in the kitchen, tossing the core of the apple in the garbage right beside it. She followed the path up the stairs and to the left where her bedroom was. Her sock had somehow gotten mud on it causing her to hop on the other to take it off. She did the same with the other holding onto the door facing of her bedroom.
“Damn it,” she whispered under her breath as she realized the kitchen light was left on. She tossed her hand as a way to say, “I’ll get it tomorrow.”

She stripped out of all of her clothes, except for her t-shirt. There was a trail of her clothes from the door to her bed. The floor was already covered with laundry that had accumulated over the week. Sitting down on the edge of her bed the only light in the room that could be seen came from her alarm clock; it blinked off as the rain beat down even harder against the house. She groaned inwardly at the small town and its electricity. She laid down and pulled the covers over her. Her back faced what was supposed to be the empty side of the bed as she snuggled up to her blankets. The blankets were her shield from the world. Her eyes were getting heavy as she felt something move on the other side of the bed, but her mind was foggy and didn’t give it much thought.  An arm snaked around her waist causing her to bolt right out of the bed. She screamed before grabbing the gun off the nightstand and pointing it into the darkness. Her back was against the wall when the muscular human figure rose off the bed on the other side and faced her.

“Wh-who are you?” She stuttered as a roll of thunder made itself heard.

“It’s me,” a male voice said causing her to lean down and place the gun back onto the nightstand.

Lightening pierced the sky, brightening the room long enough for the woman to see the man’s face. The buzz cut and freshly shaven face of the man caused her to jump onto the bed and run over to him. He accepted her with open arms and a slight giggle. Her arms wrapped around his neck as her legs went around his waist. His arms supported her. The strong arms held her tightly.

“You’re home,” she said in an almost whisper with her lips only centimeters away from his.

His lips crashed into hers in wantonness and from missing her all those months overseas.

“I’m home,” he said with them both smiling as their lips parted.



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