Daisy's Revenge

flash fiction by Steven Porras

John Raymond hung the painting on the wall and took a step back to admire the latest frame to decorate his study. It was an unsightly thing depicting an unlit candle on a simple wooden table. The painting had been left to him by his now deceased ex-wife, in her will.

John studied the painting. Typical Daisy. She had to have known how much he would hate it, yet she left it to him, sure the moral obligation would drive him to hang it up anyway.

John turned his back to the painting and walked towards the shelf in the corner that served as his mini-bar. He served himself a glass of scotch, and sat at his reading chair near the fireplace.

As he set the glass on the table next to him and reached for the latest book to hold his attention, a faint smell reached his nose. It smelled of sandalwood, a scent he knew well. Daisy had always kept candles of that scent in their home before they separated. John looked up and found himself taken aback by what he saw. The candle in the painting was lit.

John reached for his glass and finished his drink, before getting up and serving himself another. The candle had always been lit, he was just misremembering the details. There was no other feasible explanation.

He sat back down and attempted to immerse himself in the book he was reading, but his mind kept drifting away from it, and thinking of Daisy. They had spent ten beautiful years married, but had ended up in a painful divorce. The last time he saw her, she had sworn that he would rue the day he ever met her, if it was the last thing she ever did. If he had only known how spiteful Daisy could be, he would have never hired Theresa to be his secretary.

Unfortunately, Daisy had lost her life in a car accident. Despite the hatred she felt toward John whilst alive, he felt nothing but love for her. Losing her had left a hole in his heart.

John looked up again, having been lost in thought for quite some time, and was surprised again to find the candle not only lit, but halfway finished! He thought the candle had been full when he received the painting, but clearly the scotch was getting to him.

He tried again to immerse himself in his book. This time, however, John found himself drifting off, dropping the book at his feet. Had he been awake, he would have heard the footsteps of a woman entering his study. Had John been awake, he would have seen this woman walk over to the lit candle in the painting and knock it over. John would have seen the candle set fire to his curtains.

Steven Porras Quesada is a Costa Rican/American writer, currently living in New Jersey. An avid horror fan, Steven grew up reading old horror novels and watching old horror movies. He loves to travel the world in his free time.