The Necklace. Flash Fiction.

“It’s an old family heirloom.”
“It’s beautiful, but I can’t accept this, it’s too much.”
“No, it isn’t. We’re getting married soon and then you’ll be a part of my family. Besides, my grandmother told me to give this to the woman I will marry and that’s you.”
Jacob undid the clasp and carefully put the necklace on Sarah. It felt warm against her skin, she looked at herself in the mirror, it really was beautiful, but something that could only really be worn for special occasions for fear of it getting lost or stolen.
“I love it, it’s so gorgeous.”

Jacob smiled and kissed her, “it looks even better on you.” He released a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. Everything was going well so far. Sarah turned to him, she opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. A brief flash of confusion crossed her face and she tried again. Jacob sighed. “I was afraid this would happen again. I’m sorry. I truly thought you were the one.” Sarah started scraping at her throat, trying to rip the necklace away, it felt like a noose across her neck, crushing her windpipe, she couldn’t breathe. The world started to dim, Sarah collapsed, unable to stand any longer. Jacob knelt beside her and took her hand in his, “Shh, it’s ok. I’m here. It’ll be over soon.” He stayed with her as her body jerked, as her breathing stopped, as she finally became cold. The metal clasp on the necklace opened and it slid from her neck. Jacob picked it up and slipped in into his pocket. He took a deep breath, then stood and went to the phone.

Anaphylactic shock. That was the final verdict. It always was. The last girl had died of an apparent bee sting. No one seemed to wonder how she got a bee sting in January. Jacob had carefully put the necklace back in its box. His grandmother had promised him it would help him find the love of his life, though she had neglected to explain how. She was a cold woman, but she always had a soft spot for Jacob. The requirement on his trust was clear, if he ever married, his bride must wear the necklace down the aisle, if she didn’t, or if he moved in with a woman beforehand, all the money would be donated to charity. He took a deep breath and placed the necklace back into the drawer. He would find her eventually, one way or another.


About Alan James Keogh

I am a 26 year old writer who somehow tricked U.C.D. into giving me not only a degree in English and Classical studies, but an Hons Masters in Creative Writing too. Visit my blog where I post short stories twice a week (Monday and Wednesday) and an installment of a serialised novel on Fridays. I did consider writing this in the third person, as though it was written by someone else, but Alan is not comfortable writing in the third person as it seems kinda creepy and unbalanced so Alan decided it was probably best to write in the first person. He hopes it went well for him.
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