The Barrington Curse
I had married young, at eighteen years of age to
Philip Barrington the third, the heir to the Barrington fortune. His
grandfather and father had died in the early forties, but not before siring an
heir. So Philip felt the need to get that heir and a spare too. Even though I
was finishing university Philip thought I should drop everything and pop out a
couple of babies. I thought differently, I wasn’t ready. We had a big bust up
and I’d left going out with my girlfriends. I’d had a good time, dancing with other
men and drinking with my friends. In fact I’d decided that I wanted a divorce.
I’d just come into our bedroom and undressed planning on confronting Philip in
the morning when I noticed him sitting in the dark in a chair in our bedroom.
“Waiting for me?” I asked.
He ignored me sitting motionless in the chair.
“Why don’t you answer?” I asked.
“I don’t appreciate this Philip. All I did was go
out for the evening with my friends.”
He continued to stare blankly at the wall not
answering.
Turning on the light I saw that he was cold and
lifeless. The police announced he died from unknown natural causes. The
headlines screamed the Barrington curse had struck again. Only I knew an
untraceable poison had killed him. Unfortunately he’s not really gone; every
night I come home and every night, he sits not saying a word, just staring at
me.
©Sheilagh Lee March 2 ,2017
