I wrote this for my literature class, 'Reading the Short Story' and thought it turned out well. If you aren't familiar with it, you should check out Charles Perrault's Bluebeard before you read this.
Once upon a time, in a faraway land called New Jersey, there lived a woman and her three lovely daughters. They were reasonably happy, although it must be said that raising three teenage girls is quite a task for anyone, especially a single mother. The youngest daughter, who had been rather unfortunately named Blue, went through a rebellious phase about the time she turned 18. She decided that she no longer wished to live with her family, and began chasing boys in clubs and bars, in the hope that one of them might be able and willing to sweep her off into a life of comfort. This seemed easier than finding a job and roommates, especially since she really was quite attractive.
Blue kept this up for a while without success, until one day she met an older man at a party thrown by a mutual friend. He had a rather unsettling scar across his right eye, and it struck her as a bit odd (at least at first,) that a 35-year-old man would be hanging around parties with college aged kids. However, she forgot her qualms when she saw his Lamborghini. When he drove her up to Manhattan and showed her his penthouse suite, she was ready to marry him on the spot. Five weeks later, that is exactly what happened.
Over the course of those five weeks, Blue told her soon-to-be husband all about herself, but somehow learned very little about him. Blue did find out that he had been married previously. Three times, in fact. His most recent wife had been presumed dead after a horrific speedboating accident, although her body was never found.
Now this made Blue's mother a bit uncomfortable. She was also less than thrilled at the length of her daughter's courtship, especially since she believed that her own marriage had failed because she hadn't had time to realize what a lout her ex-husband was before he had proposed. But perhaps you won't be surprised that she was also a bit glad to be rid of the girl, who had frankly been making a bit of a nuisance of herself. And anyway, it's nice to have one less mouth to feed when you are trying to raise a family on a single salary.
It happened that a week or so after the honeymoon1 Blue's husband had to go on a business trip. He was an executive for a Wall Street trading firm, which was sending him to the Cayman Islands to oversee the transfer of a large amount of money into a bank account there. Just before he left, Blue's husband gave her the keys to his house in the Hamptons. “You can go wherever you want,” he told her as he walked out the front door. “Play with the stereo, go for a ride on the jet ski, go tan on the beach. Anything at all. Just stay out of my safe room. It's all dusty, and you wouldn't be interested in anything there anyway.” And with that, he turned and strode out to the taxi waiting to take him to JFK.
Now Blue tried her best to obey her husband. She really did. She listened to the Jonas Brothers' newest album on the towering stereo. She rode the jet ski. But her curiosity got the best of her as she tried to relax in the sun. Blue put down the book she was reading and walked back into the house.
It took her a couple of minutes to get to the safe room, which was located in the most remote corner of her palatial new home. She stood in front of the brushed metal door, practically shaking with anticipation. She didn't have a clue what lay on the other side, but she suspected some sort of elaborate gift from her new husband. She tried the handle, but it wouldn't move! She glanced down and saw a keypad sticking out of the wall. “Oh, there must be a password,” she thought to herself. It took her a few tries, but eventually she guessed it. The password was “Blue.” When she pressed the enter key, the red light above the door flicked on, and she heard a click! from the lock.
Blue opened the door slowly, inch by inch. In her mind, she pictured the treasures that she had convinced herself were waiting for her. Blue felt cold air rushing out, and realized that she was looking into a freezer! “Well this is interesting,” she thought, as she stepped inside. You can imagine her surprise when, instead of presents, she saw three severed heads suspended from the ceiling on chains. Each had a large meathook, sunk into the nape of the neck. She felt sick. Then she noticed the fourth chain, the hook on the end gleaming and spotless. Blue almost fainted. She left her husband's meat locker just as fast as she could, slamming the door behind her. Somehow, through the haze of fear and adrenaline, she noticed that the red light had stayed on.
Once she had calmed down a bit, Blue decided that the best course of action would be to call the police. She picked up the phone, only to remember that her husband and the chief of the East Hampton Police Department played golf together every Saturday. Along with the District Attorney and several important judges. She sat back down and thought a bit more...
When her husband got home a week later, Blue greeted him at the door. Smiling as sweetly as she could, she asked him what was in the safe room. “You mean you didn't look?” he asked her.
“No, dear. I'll admit that I wanted to, but there's some kind of password.”
He looked at his wife and thought for a moment. “I can't believe you didn't guess. The password is your name. But let's go have a look.”
As he turned to lead the way, Blue pulled the 9mm Beretta out of her purse and shot him twice in the chest, just like they teach in the NRA training course.
This was America, after all- where women can take care of themselves and the waiting period for a handgun is very reasonable.
Sunday, there was a trip for international students to Stratford-Upon-Avon. It was pretty incredible, walking around the same streets and standing in the same rooms where William Shakespeare grew up. You can't see the house he bought after making a fortune with the Lord Chamberlain's Men, since it was demolished in 1759. However, we did get to see John Shakespeare's house (where Will was probably born), his grammar school, and the church where he was baptized and buried. His epigraph:
