Matthews malevolence

Matthews malevolence.

The small black notebook lay on the table whilst Matthew sat down to read a letter that was just once folded inside it.

“hmm…”

Still staring at the letter he asks.

“You here this Rex?”

The dog perks up reacting slowly.

“Even from beyond the grave and after never even remotely bothering with me whilst alive they’re still trying to tell me what to do with my life…how dare they!?”

Now furious he stands up aggressively.

“They never cared to bother with us when they were alive and now passing they think they can just leave a measly twenty thousand pounds to right all the past wrongs they have done!? Forget the money what about more frequent visits every now and then hmm? Did you ever hear the phrase ‘time is more valuable than money,’ay!? You know my mother always did say you were with her brother for the money only, and now you must think, that some heartfelt letter written on your deathbed will ever change that!?”

His voice trembles with anguish as he rants inside his living room, shaking his fist towards the ceiling throwing the letter on the floor whilst pacing up and down he begins again.

“Go and get and education she says, as if going to university in itself, is the only thing that leads to the very pinnacle of success. We both know plenty of people who have never had to step foot inside a classroom and have gone on to become multi-millionaires!... ain’t that right boy?”

He yells at the German Shepard who looks away as if he cannot tell if he’s in trouble or absolutely fine.

Pausing for a moment he resumes.

“Right…so what the letter was basically saying is, your still not good enough for us young sir but if you jump through this very last hoop you may, just may be worth being proud of…Can you believe that? As if we all had the same upbringing or was blessed with the same privileges in life as she had…Aww God these people Rex.”

Sitting down to calm himself he notices the black book, grabs it, places his thumb on the central pages then releases it slightly so all the pages flicker quickly across in a brisk yet singular series, he makes out what appears to be various names of companies: artists, bank accounts, records of finances all alluding to a conglomerate of businesses; from the owner of the buildings to the very overheads of the galleries themselves, all flashed rapidly through the stare of his now fixed yet widened eyes.

“just seem to be a ledger of some sort if that helps at all…”

He says gruntingly

Picking up the letter and placing it back inside the black book he plucks his coat from the cupboard to put on over his pjamas. Grabbing his furry ushanka hat whilst snatching the dog lead which hung off the door he then goes on to ask him.

“Walkies boy, shall we go walkies? Think we need to clear our heads, this has all been a bit too much hasn’t it boy?”

Talking in a more humorous tone rex hurries around him with his tongue out, ears pricking up and wagging his tail excitedly.

Seeing his phone ring and noticing it was lauren who was returning his call from before he says to himself.

“Aw you can clear off as well, il talk to you later.”

And places it back inside his pocket whilst stepping outside and locking the door behind him he goes on to explain.

“I couldn’t imagine what she would have planned with this…probably just more stuff for the house if it were left in her control I’d assume.”

In the garden they’re both suddenly taken forward with a dreadful gust of wind forcing them up the narrow garden path which blew his coat and his hat rigorously, and also, knocking his front gate opening and closing repeatedly. Matthew began to notice the apparent atmosphere of the weather all around; the dulling greyness of the clouds above, the sullen colours caste across the rooftops of the houses and on all of the murky roads below, all to him, seemed to imitate the exact mood the letter had now left him in perfectly. And also tending to be rather choleric, he tries to forget, the didactic element of the message and attempts to try and appreciate the sweetness, the earnestness and also, the heartfelt purpose of its personally unique intention.

With his mind so occupied and striding up the street heading for his nearby park, he lets Rex off his lead allowing him to walk freely so he can enjoy the sniffing of every gate, lamppost and all the garden shrubs, which they frequently passed whilst often walking together.

Cutting through a small passage he hears sounds of surging water becoming louder off in the distance and emerging from the other side they join and embankment by a wide river. A loud swirling of leaves all around spiralling as the wind howled and whispered with a unnatural and more ghostly essence.

His mind began to race over the day he’s been having, the fact he was twenty thousand pounds richer. The death of his relatives which he barely even seen or hardly remembered and only having his mother’s word to go by he begins to wonder whether they were even as bad as his mother made out? Especially now after hearing for himself their true opinion of him. What would I spend the money on he thought, if I gave it all away who would I give it to? Should I listen and respect their wishes and attain an education, or should I just buy a new sports car? A holiday maybe, what about Lauren, shall I give it all to her? What would mother say if she found out? Should I share it equally with her or just hand it all over to mother? His mind now raced with many thoughts that were so likewise.

“Not with the questionable habits she has now no way, she would kill herself with it…”

He says morbidly.

“Ain’t that right Rex?”

Rex, looking back, watches him throw a small black notebook into the river and then running up towards him he announces.

“Come on boy, we’ll earn our own money, that’s what we’ll do.”

He says smiling whilst they continued hurrying.

“Woof, woof.”

The dog barked in agreement, and as the little black notebook and the folded piece of paper separated whilst mid-air they both splashed into the water of the river, fluttering on the surface and now smearing the letter barely read…

From Mrs Carol Simmons.

Hi Matthew, I hope this letter finds you well.

Now I assume the very wording of this letter -if I’m somehow not mistaken- will understandably annoy you; given the fact we’ve been so vastly absent for large periods of your life, have had numerous quarrels and clashes with your own dear mother, and also, have had an endless series of painful disputes with your late and most extraordinary uncle Andrew, who I, have had the most charming opportunity; to not only meet and became acquainted, into a real and beloved friendship, and the sweetest and most admirable relationship, and also further, to then have ones hand taken towards the most memorable ceremony, of that elegant and highly glamourous matrimony we so modestly called marriage. And in since doing so, he has kept me safe, stable, and affluently comfortable throughout the entirety of our whole lives together, and to whom, I’m well aware as of now, even with this sincerest gratitude, could never, ever, have the opportunity redeem, or fulfil this obligation to equivalence, of such elevated extremities, which I so appreciatively received, from your greatly revered and most dearly remembered, and remarkably incredible, late, Mr Andrew Simmons.

As I am writing this, I, and your honoured uncle, who’s now no longer with us, and yet; the frailty of my writing hand signalling nothing other than looming imminence of my own mortality, nevertheless, have done everything we possibly could, within our power, to make sure you became the rightful recipient, of the remainder of his wealth, as his series of art galleries were so recently destroyed and subsequently collapsed into disintegration from the reoccurring pandemic, which has presently ensued across this enormous economic edifice, which we used to, and now not so, enjoyed whilst living together, to see it all.

My advice to you Matthew if you would listen to any, is to spend time within the solemnity of careful examination and meticulous rumination before you decide to take action with your new-found and well-deserved personal allowance, because I often confessed to dear Andrew that the limitless potential that lies inherent within that boy’s grasp, could be quickly unlocked and therefore set free to achieve, if only he had the more rightful means to a suited alternative. So, therefore, I implore you Matthew, that you please use this money wisely in obtaining the kind of curriculum of your choosing, which I believe would leave us both overly ecstatic with joy -if we ever did witness- espying from a haven of that sacred realm maybe, holding the hands of one another, safe inside those almighty gates, of God’s heaven itself.

I love you and bid you farewell young sir.

Make us proud.

Yours truly

Mrs Carol Simmons.