The Story of Another Hour

Wealthy, respected and adored, it was perplexing for Brently Mallard to be seen drifting home with a bottle of brown liquor on the evening after the funeral.

He hadn't any alcohol since his wedding day twenty years before, and in fact he'd only bought a bottle now because his friend Richards made him. The thoughts of his wedding day- his crisp ebony suit, the attention he lapped up from his cheering subordinates and, most painfully of all, Louise's flashing, obedient smile made Brently desolate again. His body quivered with each sob as he stumbled home from the tavern while darkness closed in around him.

Soon Brently found himself in the manor garden, sitting on the swing he had built for his little girl and her mother a long time before. Though only a shadow among the purple sky, he felt memories coming back to haunt him, and for a moment there was Louise in front of him- her long hair tied back neatly, her grey dress fitting her cleavage nicely as she smiled at the grown man testing out the swing. Before his eyes welled Brently opened up a bottle of liquor and took a gulp to wash the dream away.

At first, Brently felt only a burning, bitter taste clinging to his throat, but somehow he wanted, no, needed more. He took another gulp, a much larger one, before finally downing the rest of the bottle. The huge impact of so much alcohol eventually took its toll five minutes later, almost making him fall of the swing. Whenever he stood up, his dead-weight legs refused to lift.

As daylight began to appear now Brently's emotions shifted between delirious grief and happiness; he had been left alone by his wife! How dare she, the one asset of his life that was to remain forever, along with his little girl! Like the sun rising he would break into the clouds, pluck Louise Mallard from the heavens and get revenge for leaving him alone, the bitch!

When something flashed into life in front of him he thought his wish was granted.

Standing there was a woman, quite young, tall, slim, with long neat hair tied back, wearing a grey dress and standing there with perhaps the same compassion and confusion he felt.

"Louise...?" Brently whispered, choking through the tears of joy rolling down his cheeks. He could not contain himself; Louise was back, right here. She had not died at all. He had been dreaming after all!

"Louise!" He screamed, running towards her.

Brently at first did not understand why the woman ran away from him, or why she yelled in horror as he pulled her close. Lustily he forced herself on top of her in spite of inaudible protests. For he, caught in a turmoil of happiness, drunkenness and delirium, unleashed the passion and pleasure he had so wanted to give to his wife.

Unbeknown to Brently, Richards came running into the garden panting. He himself had been so drunk last night he had not noticed Brently leaving the tavern for home, and had been passing the house when he heard screaming from the back. Upon seeing what was happening he strained to pull Brently away from the woman. The grieving husband yelled incoherently about wanting to be with his beloved, that Richards had no right to ruin this moment, until he sobered up and cried aloud at what he beheld.

But Richards was too late.

When his friend visited Brently in jail, Richards told him that his sister-in-law Josephine died of injuries and shock- the victim of a frenzied rape.

--
Author's Note: This piece was written as part of our creative writing task had to be based on 'The Story of Brently's Hour' by Kate Chopin. However the characters are purely the work of the author herself.