I love this format, combining two of my favorite short story writing techniques - using random elements, and staying under 500 words, which is much more difficult than people think.
The book I grabbed is A Dirty Job by Christopher Moore. Page 133. Here goes.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
He hoped that Madeline Alby had
already died. It would be easier for him. I, on the other hand, hoped for a
chance to say goodbye, even if it meant seeing the carnage first hand.
"She's going quickly,"
the nun said when we arrived. "You might have five minutes. Certainly no
more."
He pushed the door to her room
open silently and we entered stealthily as cats on a carpet. There was no need
for silence, since she'd been deaf for years, but she deserved that small bit
of respect.
Madeline had been the most
brilliant woman we'd ever known. She would have been mentioned amongst the
greatest scientists of her time, had it not been for her husband. Instead, here
she was, months shy of thirty years old, dying in a small convent hidden from
her bastard husband.
He had been beating her since before
they were married. He’d destroyed most of her teeth long ago. By 25 she had
lost her hearing due to repeated blows to the sides of her head. A year ago he’d
taken her right eye.
No matter how bad he beat her,
though, her mind stayed active, always churning, always searching for the
hidden secrets of life. He had never been able to take that intellect and
wonder from her.
The nun stood quietly in the
corner as we moved to the side of her bed. I sat softly near her knees, trying
to not disturb her too much, and took her hand. My brother softly stroked her
hair. Tears began streaming down his face.
Madeline’s face, once so
beautiful, was nearly unrecognizable in the soft light of the room. Her remaining
eye was swollen so badly that we couldn’t see even a small hint of where her
eyelids separated. Her lips were pulp. Her jaw was very obviously broken in at
least two places, as was her nose. I could feel the broken bones in her hand,
and suspected there were many more throughout her body.
Her breathing was uneasy, but the
nun assured us she was comfortable.
“We’ve taken every measure to
ensure her last days would be free of pain,” said the nun. “We are surprised
she has held on as long as she has.”
“I’m not,” I said. “She is the
strongest person I know.” Tears started warming my cheeks, as well.
As those last few moments of
Madeline’s life passed, I felt saddened that I would never see her smile again.
Silently, with a few gasping breaths, the woman I had secretly loved most of my
life passed away.
We stood for several minutes,
silently sobbing, internally saying goodbye to our friend.
My brother turned to the nun. “He
broke her skull, didn’t he sister?”
The nun nodded. “I’ve never seen
a beating this bad.”
“He left her with a broken
spirit,” I said between sobs.
"Yeah, and brain
damaged," added the sister.
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