Eerie Tales

The Spouse

I wore my wristwatch as I stood in front of the mirror. This was the last thing I wore before going out of our room with my shoulder bag.

As I was going down the stairs, I smelled a very familiar waft of aroma from the kitchen. I should be excited, but no. My shoulders drooped as I heaved a deep sigh. I was sure I would never eat a real breakfast until our cook returned from their province.

My wife was preparing the table with fast food being served before us. She was still in her pajamas, her hair was messy, and she was biting a strip of french fry.

"Good morning, honey," she greeted me as soon as she noticed my presence.

I forced a smile. "Well, the morning isn't good because of all the fast food on the table," I grunted out of annoyance without looking at her.

When I reached the table, I pulled the chair chaotically, sat on it, and grabbed a piece of banana. I just stared at the food in front of me while peeling off the skin of the banana.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said sarcastically, and I heard her clicking her tongue. "I told you many times that I couldn't cook. I don't know how to cook, no matter how many times I try," she reasoned out.

My gaze lifted at her. Her hands on her waist and looking at me with madness. Was it my fault she couldn't cook? "Because you never learn how to do it! You have the ability to learn how to cook, but I guess it's your choice not to learn it at all," I retorted, taking a huge bite of banana and munching it angrily.

"What has gotten into your mind to say that to me?" she hissed. "I tried many times, but I failed! Does this inability make me undervalued? Even if I can't cook, I'm still trying my best to be your good wife. We never have problems when we hire a cook."

I glared at her. "But she hasn't returned yet."

"Then eat this food served on the table!" she bellowed as she motioned her hand to the food.

I slammed my hand, along with the banana peel, on the table. "No, I won't. I'm going to work hungry. Good bye."

I left the table immediately without looking back at her.

"Fine! "Off you go!"

I shut the door behind me. It was unfortunate that early in the morning we were arguing about breakfast. Yes, my wife can't cook, so we hired a cook, but she hadn't returned from the province after a week because of some family issue.

My head turned to notice a woman in dirty clothes and messy hair that had suddenly emerged out of nowhere. I didn't know where she came from, but I caught her staring at me oddly. She quickly averted her sight when she noticed me. Her feet carried her rapidly away from our house without turning in my direction again.

I just shrugged and went on my way to the office.

It was a tiring day, and coming home from work every day was the most exciting thing a tired man could ever do. It was past seven and it was not safe to walk along the streets anymore. I was glad to have a car for transportation.

My heart was racing when I reached the porch. I needed to say sorry to her. The scene that happened in the morning wasn't good and I was at fault. Instead of understanding her, I became angry at how incapable she was of cooking and preparing food.

I rolled over the knob with a deep sigh under the bright moonlight. I inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled as I pushed the door inward.

My eyes were fixed on the couch, hoping to see my wife sitting on it while watching TV, but I found no one.

The TV was turned on and a news reporter was speaking about a psychotic woman who had escaped from an asylum and had been hunted by the metro police. I wasn't able to hear more of the news when I noticed something in the kitchen.

I heard sounds as if someone was cooking.

The savory aroma began lingering in my nostrils.

I slowly stepped forward toward the kitchen and peered through the door.

My eyes widened and my lips parted at the scene before me.

My wife was cooking! She was facing her back to me as she was preparing something on the countertop.

My eyes were laid upon the table, and freshly cooked food was being served. Just by looking at them, I got very hungry.

"Hey, honey," I muttered as I opened the door and went inside. "I'm sorry for what happened earlier in the morning. I know I shouldn't scold you for being incapable of cooking. I'm sorry.""

It's okay, honey," she replied without looking at me. "Just sit down and eat the food I made for you."

I sat down at the table, but my brows knitted when I noticed something strange. "Why do you have a hoarse voice, honey?"

"It's just a sore throat, honey. I already took medicine."

I nodded upon her response. I didn't talk anymore and began eating the food on the table. Finally, I'd eaten something that wasn't fast food.

"Your wife is lovely, isn't she?"

"Of course, honey," I replied while eating.

"She is caring and kind, isn't she?"

"Yes, no doubt about that. By the way, where did you learn this? I'm glad you can cook now," I asked.

"It's just a simple recipe."

I bit into the meat and munched it thoroughly. This was delicious!

"What kind of meat did you use?"

She got something out of the oven and placed it on the tray.

My system froze. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped as she turned around to face me holding a tray.

"The flesh of your wife, dear."

I saw the cooked severed head of my wife on the tray as the scary woman grinned like a mad dog at me.

"A hardworking husband needs a wife that can cook... and I can be that wife, my dear."

She was the psychotic woman who escaped from the asylum.