#Valentine "Her John" The House of Baghhckkoooze chapter 6 ((The Third Movement) excerpt (c) 2018-2019

click here for chapter 4

click here for Chapter 6

Flashback: CHAPTER 4 (Causes
and Conditions)

Then he heard a fly buzz. He saw the fly on a single red light bulb that was hanging from the ceiling. The buzzing combined with the sound of white noise from the television set. There was a bare mattress, in the corner, had no sheets. Layers of dust, mildew, and stained spots of dark red. No one was in the room.

“Where did he go?” He asked out loud, in a voice tone so commanding.
He didn’t know why he sounded so commanding.

“Okay, how can I help you, Sir?” By the door that leads to the
next room, sat an attractive woman wearing a denim dress. She was seated behind
a desk. He looked down at her. Then followed his eyes to her staring at the
bed. On the bed she was straddled, on top of a man, having intercourse. Then
the door opened and closed. An angry man stormed in, with a gun in hand. Shot
her in the head. The man she was riding got up and ran out of the door. The
macabre scene disappeared. The owner looked down again, at the woman, part of
her head was missing.

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He had the same shotgun in his hands that he used on his wife.

“I REALLY DON’T WANT TO DO THIS. BUT THERE IS NO OTHER WAY,” the words of the man echoed through The Owner’s mind. The man’s name was John. The charm of jealousy entwined with rage.

In the beginning, John would do such things to enter into her life. Showing up at her work. He’d hear their comments. They’d say he could be a stalker. Eventually, she gave in.  All the expensive gifts. John was such a gentleman, opening doors, pulling her chair out.

At work on Valentine’s day, her co-workers spoke of their dissatisfaction with their husbands. ‘Her John’ didn’t treat her like that.

“So this guy you seeing. Does he forget your birthday?”

“He will eventually.”

“My man seems to want to hang with his friends more than me.”

“Well my man..”

“What’s his name?”

“His name is John.”

“Well, is he all that good?”

“‘My John’ opens doors for me.”

“What do you mean? Figuratively?”

“When we’re out he treats me like a princess. He is always available when I’m having a bad day.”

On and on it went, until one of her coworker’s replied, “You better hold on to your John.”

“Yep, she better hold on to ‘Her John.’”

After that, was it ‘fate’s timing’ when the flowers that ‘her John’ had delivered to her came at that moment.

“My man only gives me flowers, after we fight.”

“Yea, she better hold on to ‘her John.’”

It was in those moments, on that Valentine’s day, that she decided to fall in love with ‘her John.’

That afternoon, into that evening ‘her John,’ called her five times. She didn’t want to answer. At seven zero five pm, six hours and sixty six minutes, she knocked on her John’s door.

During the time, when she never called back, he had one of those emotional things. The kind of thing when hours seem like days. Entities linger to find a possession during these emotional time lapses. His first thoughts were what he imagined he did wrong. He thought of all the things he had done for her. Then he thought about all the wrong he did in his life. As his anxiety increased, he started thinking about he thought about the moments in his life when people had done him wrong. He became angry. When he answered the door, and saw her, all of his defeating thoughts paused.

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