I was crying at my husbands funeral. He was my seventh. It was hard to believe he was gone. It took months for the posion to kick in. At the rate he was going, I thought he would live forever. It was easy enough faking a tear or two, I learned to cry from my actress step mother, before I poisoned her so my father wouldn’t change his will. I enjoyed being rich, and always inheriting my husbands fortunes ensured it would stay that way. I was the best kind of widow, a black widow.
About the Creator
Alex H Mittelman
I love writing and just finished my first novel. Writing since I was nine. I’m on the autism spectrum but that doesn’t stop me! If you like my stories, click the heart, leave a comment. Link to book: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CQZVM6WJ
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Keep reading
More stories from Alex H Mittelman and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Racing, Pacing and Revenge
I was racing my car around the track. I was a close second. I was slowly catching up to Jeff in first. I was on his tail, then got clipped from behind. I lost, and every day I relive that race. I could have won. I lost my sponsors, my wife left with my dog and I’m broke, to poor to go to the bar. I ask people for money on the street, and try to smile when they give me spare change. I had nightmares about the race until I won the lottery. Now I own the track.
By Alex H Mittelman about a year ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.