some weeks later

It's a flick knife or a switchblade.

StoryKettle » DOTTY » some weeks later

Copyright © 2017, Michael M Wayman

The assistant put three knives on the table. “Do you recognise any of these?”

“I've never seen that one before” indicating the left knife. “It's a weapon, both sides of the blade are sharpened. It's a flick knife or a switchblade I think.”

“The middle one is a Solingen carving knife, it could be out of my kitchen.”

“The one on the right I've seen once before. It's a medieval dagger, probably an imitation. I saw it covered in blood on the kitchen floor next to Normandie. There was blood all over the place. I tried to stop the bleeding. I tied a dishcloth tight around her arm as a tourniquet to stop the blood flow...”


“The truth is: you stabbed the young woman in your kitchen. You threw her to the floor. You tried to push a dishcloth into her mouth to finish her off. The father of the young lady ran into the room and pulled you away and saved his daughter's life. What do you say to that?”

“No, none of that is true. Her father did enter the kitchen, but it was the paramedic who came in straight afterwards who saved her life.”

“Could you describe your relationship with her father?”

“Real bad. My girlfriend's father is an evil little creature.” Pause. “I will repeat that. My girlfriend's father is an evil little creature.” Another pause. “In the two months that I have known Normandie I have learnt how awful he is. He lives off the money that Normandie earns and wants to keep her at home all the time she...”

“NOT TRUE!” shouts the father in the dark corner of the courtroom. The judge reminds him to keep quiet.

“It's working. I'm winding him up. See how dark it is around him. The darkness is evil. See how light it is around me. Normandie says that it is goodness, goodness that comes out of me. Can you not see it?”

Another shout from the dark corner.

“And now for the Rumpelstiltskin moment. He's disappeared into his own evil darkness.”

An odd sound, the sound of a large hollow object falling over, the darkness clears revealing a papiermâché figure of Normandie's father on the courtroom floor. A small, black, ugly creature climbs out and runs to a door.

The small creature cannot reach the door handle, it leans against the wooden door, burns a hole in the door and escapes.


“It's all over now. Your goodness has won through.” Normandie kisses me. “Even the wound on my arm has disappeared.”



Have you read Amy and Roger and the toasted golf balls?