Please login or signup to add a comment to this paragraph.

Add comment   Close
Davide Castel Davide Castel
Recommendations: 39

It Will be Done!

Share this writing

Link to this writing

Start Writing

More from Davide Castel

Forty Years
The Interview
Just Over that Hill

More Short Stories

Rebekah King Rebekah King
Recommendations: 21
Jason Dookeran Jason Dookeran
Recommendations: 12
Elizabeth Tan Elizabeth Tan
Recommendations: 29
I Cannot Resist
Stephen Stribbell Stephen Stribbell
Recommendations: 10
Four Fundamentals of Making Acquaintances
Kaitlyne Beaudin Kaitlyne Beaudin
Recommendations: 25
She had a friend.

This story is a respost in response to Hannah Myers story,  so I hope that some of the new ones will enjoy.

The sunny November day masked a ruthless mind intent on committing an unimaginable crime, the act of elimination. The regrets were sure to come later but by then it would be too late.

This was not the first time when such thoughts had taken on a life of their own. It had happened before. Oriana called it pure madness. There was a time when a deed of this nature would have been absolutely sinful, but the continuing burden of her thoughts drove the usually cheerful Oriana to despair. ‘What am I going to do about it?’ She would scold herself. It was a time for loss, of letting go, but how does one ever sever the tie?

It was the hypnotic voice of the crooner Frank Sinatra singing My Way on the radio, which had led her to this point.

And now - the end is near - and so I face - the final curtain
My friend - I’ll say it clear - I’ll state my case - of which I’m certain
I’ve lived - a life that’s full - I’ve travelled each - and every byway
And more - much more than this - I did it - my way

Now a Senior Citizen, Oriana was determined to turn her life around. The years were passing her by much too quickly, and with so many plans yet to be accomplished, she had become a changed person in her determination to reach her goals. Although her energy levels were not what they used to be, she persevered relentlessly, for her own peace of mind.

Oriana had a weakness for a good story. She even managed to find ways in which to accommodate helpless strangers temporarily, until they found other places to stay. This created friction with her husband Tony, who believed their dwelling should only house the two of them. He had looked forward to a peaceful and uncluttered retirement, now that their children had flown the nest.

Well meaning friends always had answers. ‘Take each day as it comes and tomorrow is another day.’ But those well meaning friends did not understand her logic.

Oriana felt that her progress was much too slow for her impatient nature and for every two steps forward, there was the inevitable step backwards. It was only when the insanity overtook her that she sprinted. The urgency of her projects appeared never-ending. It would then be all or nothing for her, but it was those in-between nomad stages, which caused Oriana the most concern.

Regrets - I’ve had a few - but then again - too few to mention
I did - what I had to do - and saw it through - without exemption
I planned - each chartered course -each careful step- along the byway
And more - much more than this - I did it - my way

Being the eldest child in a large impoverished family, Oriana was no stranger to being in charge of her younger siblings. She would fiercely protect them from the taunting remarks of outsiders, or else tow them into line by her own strict methods as if she was a Sergeant Major.

At school, she continued her role of protector and could not stand her friends being bullied by the older girls. She would retaliate and fight back making those girls cry, but they never again bothered her or her friends.

There were times when Oriana misguidedly took it upon herself to solve the problems of the world. The aftermath of many of her spontaneous actions created mayhem with all those who had put their trust in her. She had been well meaning, but the bad blood created between the wounded parties should have warned her to curb any future plans. She had really tried, that was until the next case of madness presented itself.

Yes, there were times - I’m sure you knew - when I bit off - more than I could chew
But through it all - when there was doubt - I ate it up - and spit it out
I faced it all - and I stood tall - and did it - my way

Oriana could always tell by the way her usually placid husband Tony paced irritatingly around the room that he did not approve of her methods. This was one of those times when their views and opinions differed.

‘I know what I’m doing, dear. It will all be okay,’ she would pacify him and watch him relax as he believed her yet again. When in this mood, Tony knew that it was wiser to keep out of her way.

She had plans and knew a trick or two to camouflage her impulsive actions. Her roots had taught her well. Oriana would either pretend the problem did not exist, turn a blind eye, shove it all in a closet, or leave it for future deliberation. It was all in the timing and what did Tony know about such things as her timing?

I’ve loved - I’ve laughed and cried - I’ve had my fill - my share of losing
But now - as tears subside - I find it all - so amusing
To think - I did all that - and may I say - not in a shy way
Oh no - oh no not me - I did it - my way

Oriana faced another dilemma. Only her family was aware that behind her cheery disposition, there lurked a passionate personality with murderous intent, an obsession with elimination.

‘Remember your roots and the hardships of your youth,’ her conscience niggled.
‘It is because of these roots that I am in this situation now,’ she would reply heatedly.

She finally made a ruthless decision that one must be cruel to be kind. There would be no backing out now, not once she had decided that it would be done once and for all. Her friends just had to go! They had definitely overstayed their welcome.

They were the ones who had at first tempted to keep Oriana from loneliness, but she had made the final choice. Occasionally, her friends took vacations, but they always returned. Now her cluttered house drove her to despair. She needed her space to breathe freely and to write again. Peace would then rule her household and soothe her soul.

Of course, there would be a price to pay, as with most crimes, but the benefits outweighed the losses. Without a doubt, her friends had to be eliminated. It was true that they had helped her when she needed them most, especially Carol, for whom she felt guilty. Oriana was indebted to dear Carol who helped ease much of her pain by her very presence at her hospital bedside, after life-threatening surgery all those years ago. But Carol and the others were now in her past and did not fit into her future plans.

The world owed her nothing and Oriana was thankful that her life had not been boring. She was like ‘the girl with the proverbial curl.’
Now was the time to share with other people some of the pleasures she had gained from her worldly experiences.

The memories of romantic dinners under the stars of Paris; gliding in a gondola on Venetian waters; trekking the Himalayas and other terrains; mixing with movie stars and famous celebrities; sharing Japanese hospitality; joining in Mexican festivities; wearing colourful costumes and dancing to the vibrant music at the Carnival of Rio. She had been so blessed.

Then there were the not so fortunate times when her travels took her to the poverty in the Philippines, Africa and Chile, where young children suffered from inhumane treatment and starvation; the despair and loss of life through drugs and the effects on the families and loved ones. The horrors of what she had seen sickened her as did the legacy of war and acts of God. These experiences left her profoundly distressed.

Oriana had a conscience. She struggled to comprehend why such happenings occurred and what small thing she could do to help ease some of the suffering of those poor unfortunates. The fact that it was happening here in her own lucky country strengthened her views for action and Frank Sinatra was partly to blame for what she was about to do.

For what is a man - what has he got - if not himself - then he has naught
To say the things - he truly feels - and not the words - of one who kneels
The record shows - I took the blows - and did it - my - way

The time had come to do the deed and send those now useless lifelong friends packing. They would of course, always remain close to her heart for she had travelled and discovered the world through their stories, but she could no longer let those freeloaders stay to take up the much needed space of her future projects. Another charity could take them in.

There was no time to lose. What must be done could not be undone.

Remember your roots … Regrets - I’ve had a few …

A girl on a mission and before Oriana could change her mind, she left the house armed with boxes of Mills and Boon books by her favourite authors - Carol Mortimer, Emma Darcy, Mary Burchell, Penny Jordan and others, then dropped them into the St. Vincent de Paul’s pick-up crate.

‘Goodbye my friends,’ whispered Oriana tearfully.

Her sleep would now be peaceful at long last, until the next time.

Yes - I did it - my way …

Link to this writing

Share this writing

Next: Never Again