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Page Turner Challenge: Picks

The Milk of Human Evil by Geri Newell



I lay in the immense king-size bed, with the fluffy duvet up to my chin, facing the floor to ceiling window.  The heavy drapes were opened to their fullest and I could make out the faint mauve outline of the Spring Mountain range in the distance.  The sky was taking on that unearthly early morning glow that only seems to happen in Vegas just before the sun rises. 

The clock radio played softly in the background.  Dvorak’s Bagatelles.  It was rare to hear that piece played on the radio.   And certainly unexpected in a place like Las Vegas.   

I luxuriated in my thoughts, thinking back over the last few hours.  I had begun.  I had worried that I might have second thoughts.  I had been concerned that it might actually be more difficult to achieve than I had imagined.  How silly of me.  How could I possibly have had any doubts about achieving something so extraordinarily splendid?  There was no mess, no screaming, no struggle. Totally faultless.  He was perfect.  He was dead.  And I had never felt more alive in my life.

Geri Newell is from Montreal, QC

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