by Carol Whittingham
It would be so easy, they lay there, mere seconds away from her hand. Heavy metal keys attached to a metal ring, the weight of them settling down on her conscience. Her mind supplied the images of what could or would happen if she lifted the keys. The book in her hands became all the more interesting as she tried to block the words her conscience called to her. Mentally she knew the only way to lift the weight from her conscience would be to physically lift the keys.
The keys, while not that different than many other sets of keys, held such power. To lift them would sign her death warrant, her husband now that he has his heir has no need of her and would kill her for her betrayal of him. The room was a test, the comfort in which she was lavished and the keys so tempting. If she had lied and had known her husband's captive the keys would be irresistible to her.
On her conscience was the life of two, her own and that of her husband's captive. The guilt of her actions weighed heavily upon her shoulders, her husband's captive was dead either way, just for being in her room. The only thing she could do was to take the keys and die with him or leave them and live despite him.
I'm a published writer of short stories in UK newspapers like The Weekly News and online with Everydayfiction.com, AmazonShorts and AmazonShorts.com.
I have stories forthcoming in anthologies on both sides of The Atlantic.
Pieces Inspired by this Image
'Her Nose in a Book'
'The Town's Witch'
'The Book of Love'