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STRANGLED

Storried Strangled
 – By Eric Arthur
I just got my sack letter.
I walked out of Mr Greg’s office feeling browbeat, speechless and weak. I was dispirited, yet angry.
Gregory Atkinson had handed me the printed letter with ‘his deepest regrets’ and apologies, but I knew better. In this business, it’s kill or be killed. The competition is excruciatingly neck tugging.
I felt cheated, manipulated and played on. Not after all I had done for this firm. Needless to say, there was a raspish outburst… a loud exchange of words before I stormed out of his office.
But I was soon disgruntled at my childish behaviour. Gregory only did what every other shark would have done. Albeit my anger, I knew that I had to apologise to Greg for my inappropriate language and temper.
A few seconds later, I was back at Gregory’s door. I knocked twice before pushing the door open and wheezed in. I stopped abruptly, catching my breath as I froze.
What I saw left my senses in disarray. Gregory was dead… strangled on his chair, his eyes were still open and white. Who did this? I only left this office a few seconds ago. Oh my! I sauntered forward, unsure of what I was seeing. A copy of my sack letter was placed on his table, right in front of him!
Just then, I turned back and saw his Secretary, Suzy, standing by the door. Before I could say anything, she screamed.
***
The lawyers seemed confused… Both of them. It was the final day in court, and I was surely going to jail for the murder of Gregory Bill Atkinson.
Storried Strangled
The pieces of evidence were so damning, my friends were starting to believe I actually did it. The forensics even found traces of my powder on Gregory’s neck. I began to doubt my own innocence. Was I forgetting what I did? Was my brain covering up my own actions to save me from grief? I had heard of that sort of thing happening to people. Sand filling memories to prevent agony… depression.
Was I suffering from advanced somnambulism? Maybe I was oblivious of my own deeds. Did I kill Gregory out of anger and vengeance? I was unsure of this myself now. Only my wife thought I was innocent. She had hope, but I knew it was only a matter of time. I just prayed she visited me in prison, at least.
***
”For the last time,” the judge asked. ”do you plead guilty or not guilty?”
I was stuttering… my senses were in shambles. I stammered even my own name. Then I fainted.
***
I awoke in a hospital. I could hardly recognise the face of my wife. She sat beside me, and immediately sparked to life when she saw my eyes. I looked around to be sure it was not a prison hospital.
It did not seem like one.
”What happened?” I asked.
”Tom… Oh Tom. Thank God you are okay.” She said.
I stared at her blankly. Maybe I should just have died. Death… Why hath thou forsaken me? I thought.
”Gregory was on a call that day. He only dropped his phone in his shirt pocket when someone walked in. The person he spoke with on phone was in court today. He heard everything that happened. He heard the real killer’s name right before he cut the call. You were framed, Tommy.”
I listened intently… patiently, yet anxiously. Oh my God!

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