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Challenge
The object is to write a short flash fiction story, 100 - 450 words in length and spin it anyway you like, but … you must pick any two of the following characters only: Chet, Dave, April, Melissa, Mark or Myra … then choose one of these settings: city park, restaurant, living room or bedroom … then choose a weapon: gun, knife, rope, hammer … set the scene, act out the stage. You are the director and the star. You have the names, the places and the weapons … tell us what happens.
Please, make sure you tag me as follows: @Danceinsilence ... in the comment box and not on the piece itself, since I will be picking the winner, failure to do so will disqualify you from potentially winning.

Zeus and Hera

She didn’t know what happened. She always thought they were the perfect couple. They had done everything together for as long as she could remember. She always assumed they would end up married and making babies like Mom and Dad. No one could convince her otherwise, although they tried. As she stood at the window outside his perfect home, that should have been their home, staring into his living room looking at his perfect wife, and perfect children, she was confused. Why was she outside looking in? Why was she standing in the cold, shivering, fingers numb, curled around the handle of a knife, her nails digging so hard into her palms she was bleeding? What did Mila have that she didn’t? Nothing, that’s what. She didn’t have the life-long history that she and Mark had. She didn’t have the shared memories. Nothing. She had nothing. Except Mark. And the life she was supposed to have. The life she always expected to have. What did she do wrong?

Inside, she saw Mark pick up his son while Mila picked up their daughter to get ready for bed. They turned off the lights and headed up the stairs. She waited. When she thought enough time had passed, she creeped around the back of the house to the French doors off the family room. She knew they never locked them. No one did in their town. There was never any reason to do so. The Family Town, they called it. Nothing bad ever happened here.

She looked up and saw the lights still on in what she knew were the bathroom and children’s bedroom. Of course she knew. She had been there just that afternoon cooing over her niece and nephew. Oooh, how beautiful baby Myra is. Look at all that hair! And Donny looks just like his daddy at that age, doesn’t he? And Mila acting all goofy happy and hugging on Mark like she wasn’t even there. Like she didn’t love him first and more and better than Mila ever could. She almost killed Mila right then. But she didn’t.

When the lights went out, she waited until she thought they might be asleep, and then quietly opened the door. She walked softly through the family room to the bottom of the stairs. She listened. Silence. And then the squeak of a bed spring. She paused. When the air remained still, she started up the stairs, the knife raised in her hand. Mila was going to die tonight, and then she and Mark could live the life they were supposed to be living. She smiled as she gripped the door knob to their room and slowly pushed it open.

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