Regret of the Deceased Husband
Chapter 1
Three days after I kicked the bucket, my boyfriend, Ben, got the call about identifying a body.
He was all wrapped up with some girl, probably in his own bed, and drawled, “Just cremate her. Call me after.”
My corpse was shoved into the furnace,
turned to ashes. The people at the funeral home called Ben again.
He sighed into the phone, real dramatic.
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“Yeah, yeah, I’m comin‘.”
Two hours later, Ben finally rolled up
His shirt was rumpled, and there was lipstick
smeared on his collar. Bright red. Looked like
he’d just crawled out of the sack.
He found some funeral home worker and
sneered, “Where’s Ashley’s ashes? That’s why
I’m here, right?”
The guy, after making sure it was him,
handed over the box with my cremains.
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Ben took it like it was garbage, a smirk
plastered on his face.
“You sure this is Ashley? Not some dead cat
you scooped up off the street?”
The worker stammered, “Mr. Thompson,
these are definitely Ms. Davis’s ashes. We
have records. Want to see?”
Ben just smirked, “Nah, I trust ya.”
I let out a breath, relieved. I don’t know why,
but even though I was dead, my spirit was still
hangin‘ around. Guess I couldn’t rest in
peace.
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Now that Ben knew I was really gone, even if
he hated my guts, he’d probably do the
decent thing and bury me somewhere, right?
But before I could get my hopes up, Ben
suddenly yelped.
The urn slipped from his grip, and my ashes
scattered all over the floor.
Ben gave this chilling chuckle, like in a horror
movie. “Oops, butterfingers.”
Then, he planted his boot on my ashes,
grinding them into the tile floor.
My breath hitched. I stared into his cold eyes,
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trying to scream, but no sound came out.
He kept grinding until my ashes were lost in
the cracks and mixed with dust.
Finally, Ben pulled his foot back, a satisfied
look on his face.
He said to the stunned funeral home guy,
“Tell Ashley…her little stunt was creative, but
it flopped. My mom’s anniversary is coming
- up. She better be a good girl and go to my
mom’s grave and beg for forgiveness, or even
if she is dead, I’ll dig up her body and whip
