THE NIGHT THE EARTH CRIED (Short Story) By Cathy Markus

My husband passed, not too long ago. I had to bury him. No funeral or cremation was planned. Would it shock you to tell you that I killed him myself?

You see, my husband ignored me and he was extremely verbally abusive. He called me, 'idiot.' And 'retard.' And 'moron.' and 'shit head.' and 'box of rocks.' He never did anything for me, he never made love to me. He never even kissed me. He was always watching TV. And if he's not watching TV, he went out with the guys and played cards at the casino. He never showed me any affection. Or love. It's like we were roomates. Not husband and wife. I tried to talk to him. For example, I said, "I'm in a good mood today!" And he said to me, "Shut up shit head. I'm trying to watch the game." Or, "Idiot, where is my dinner?" Or, "You moron, where is my red shirt?"

You are probably thinking, 'how do you tolerate a husband like that?' Well, my husband is a car dealer. And the money that he makes, puts a roof over our heads, food on the table, clothes to wear and extra spending money. I have no job skills, whatsoever. I am unemployable. Without my husband, I'd be homeless and starving to death. So I put up with his ignorant comments and of course, the way he ignored me.

During the day when he was at work, I cleaned up the house spotless. I do all the laundry, I iron the clothes, I make the bed.

How did I cope with my husband ignoring me and his verbal abuse? I have a small doll collection that I play with. I know that it is crazy for a thirty-seven-year-old woman to play with dolls, but I did it because I don't have any friends and I have nothing better to do.

My doll collection, consists of four dolls. There is a Barbie bride doll, A beautiful porclain doll named Jamie. Jamie wears a long satin gown, long blonde curly hair that cascades down to her waist. She has a bonnet to match her dress. Her facial features are gorgeous. She has big blue glass eyes, with eyelashes. she has a perfect nose and red painted lips. Then, I have a Raggedy Ann doll that I have had since I was seven. Another doll that I have is a wooden doll that I name Bronia. Bronia is a German doll that has a white short sleeve shirt with suspenders, a pink knee length skirt and painted on features. She has painted blue eyes and red painted lips. Her hair is chin length and real. I played with these dolls, when ever I could. It is the only thing that made me feel satisfied.

Anyway, earlier one night as usual, I made dinner for my husband. We both sat down at the table and started to eat. Right away, my husband started in on me. "The soup is cold you box of rocks, warm it up!" He said, crisply. And that's when I snapped. Fed up with him ignoring me and his verbal abuse and his lack of affection, including kissing me and making love to me, I went to the kitchen, opened the drawer and pulled out a butcher knife. I went over to him, and I plunged it into his chest. Blood spurted out like a waterfall and flowed everywhere. I slit his throat. More blood. And he fell forward. He was dead! I killed him! I hysterically ran out of the house, towards the garage. I got a shovel, and all I could think of was to hurry up and bury him, before the Law finds out. So I started digging. I started to sweat profusely. Sweat was streaming in my eyes. All over my body. All over my shaking hands and scalp. My face. It was so heavy, I could swim in it. But I had to bury him--or else. dusty pink pastel dresses for bridesmaid

When I stopped digging the hole that was big enough to bury my husband, I was exausted. But I knew that I had to do my never ending dirty work. So I went into the house where my husband was lying and tried to drag him out. And if you think that that was easy, you're gaw dawn nuts. Struggling my hardest, I managed to drag him to his grave and shove him in. Then, I took the shovel, and covered the hole with dirt.

When all of that nightmarish hell was done, I was exhausted, and I went to bed. I couldn't help thinking, how will pay the mortgage and the bills? How will I manage? I didn't miss him. I had lost love for him. And I think you know why.

An d that's when I heard a faint sound. "Margie, get me out. Please get me out!"

What in the world? Was he still alive? And then I heard it again. "Margie please get me out. Get me out!" Oh, oh, my husband was alive!

Faster than a streak of lightning, I ran to the garage and I got the shovel. I went to where my husband was buried and I started digging and digging. Soon, a hand came out and grabbed my ankle. I screamed, but I kept on digging. Soon, there was enough room for my husband to crawl out slowly. He was covered with blood and dirt. I helped him get out. I went to the bathroom and I ran a warm shower for him. It took three showers to get the dirt and blood off of him. It was amazing that he was still alive!

And after that night, our marriage went up for the much better. We made love. We kissed. He would hold me in his arms and cuddle me. We would talk. He even invited me to go to the casino and play cards with the guys!

I still think about that night. And how it changed our lives. I was happy now. As far as my dolls were concerned, I put them in a box and put them in the attic.

My husband was alive and I was glad! He never verbally abused me or ignored me again. What a life, what a night!