Ruth In Pieces

Opening – Let me know if you think this would make you want to read more…


True — nervous — very, very nervous I had been and am, but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses — not destroyed —not dulled them…

Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madness knows nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded — with what caution — with what foresight — with what dissimulation I went to work!

Edgar Allan Poe – The Tell-Tale Heart



Ruth stared down at the bright crimson capsule in the palm of her hand, poking and prodding it as if it might take on a life of its own. What would it feel like? She never took prescription medication, rarely even a Panadol. She looked up at her reflection in the mirror on the door. Her frightened ghost stared back.

“Scaredy cat. It won’t kill you,” she said, addressing her doppelganger. Her voice was loud in the silence of the empty room. She looked down again. It’s only one pill. 100 milligrams. Nothing. I’ll wake up in the morning as usual. Nothing will be different…almost nothing. I chose this pill for a reason. I just want to know how it feels. Before she could change her mind she shot the small, red bullet into her mouth and washed it back with a glass of shiraz.

Ruth stood and walked to the bedroom window looking out over a garden no longer visible under the comforting, forgetful blanket of night.

The curtain moved. A few strands of hair spidered over her face. She lifted her hand, watched it vaguely, vacantly for the age, the mile, the seconds of its ascent. It stopped mid-air. It was so far away.