by Derek Haines
The sequel to The Sons of Cleito
Copyright © 2013 by Derek Haines
All rights reserved.
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Between the time you close your eyes and wait for sleep to arrive, one's brain goes into its routine filing mode of the day's events, but the mind however, slips into nonsensical overdrive. Unlike a dream, this short, or more often long period of time, is when irrational thoughts become rational, the impossible becomes possible and the absolute illogical prevails. I tossed and turned, having a fistfight with my pillow as my mind decided it was time to process my last few months and unleash vengeance on those who had wronged me. Helen came in for a dose of my spite as our marriage danced in my head and her death somehow became justified. As savage as it seemed, shot and dumped into the sea without ceremony, my mind decided it was a logical and satisfactory conclusion to our marriage that was seemingly based on the presumption that she was only assigned to me by an unknown cloak and dagger agency of political imperative. That she had been my wife for nearly twenty years didn't compute in my mind, as it decided she was simply better off dead, and gone.