‘Dreaded Bliss’ – By Mark T. Bates (The Curious Dark #3)

‘Dreaded Bliss’

A Short Story …

By Mark T. Bates

(2025)

***

It all started as just a little harmless fun. We were newlyweds, married at the dawn of spring in 1962. A beautiful day that started with the bells of the church ringing, and ended with my husband taking me to our bed for the first time. The following morning we were boarded on a Pan-Am flight bound for Aspen, where we spent a wonderful week honeymooning as the early spring sun met the final cold breeze of winter.

We were surrounded by stunning mountain ranges and miles of beautiful scenery, as we ate delicious food and drank bottles of delightful wine. Neither of us wanted the week to end, but sadly it did, as all good things must. And we returned to the new home we had bought, with a white picket fence and an immaculately landscaped garden in a New Jersey suburb, the week before our wedding. The home we now shared as husband and wife.

The following day was a Sunday, and the last day of March. I will admit to feeling a little melancholic, it was only natural I suppose. The whirlwind of our wedding followed by the perfect honeymoon was in the past, and the following morning George, my husband, would return to work for the New York advertising firm he was a senior executive in. While I would begin my time as his housewife, starting with cleaning our new home from top to bottom, for it had been sat empty for a number of weeks prior to our wedding night, and had certainly gathered some dust. George was a particular sort from a wealthy family you see, and had made it very clear he expected a clean and tidy house to be kept.

It was not lost on me that the following morning was the first of April, and my mood cheered throughout the day as I planned a little April fools’ prank to mark the occasion – as had always been a light-hearted tradition between my parents when I was growing up. I had learned while on our honeymoon, that my beloved George had an allergy to everyday talcum powder. He had steered clear of the complimentary bottle provided in our hotel bathroom. And so, I had a trick up my sleeve for his first morning back in the office, an innocent little joke to help kick-start our new life together.

The following morning, like the good wife I intended to always be, I got up early and made his favourite chicken salad sandwich. I wrapped it in paper with a charming note attached – For my darling husband, made with love as I will always do x – and placed it into his briefcase. Then, while George was showering, I snuck out a bottle of Johnson & Johnson’s powder, and rubbed a good dollop under the inside of the collar of his work shirt. The shirt that I had just pressed and hung ready for him on the outside of his wardrobe door.

I scuttled out of the bedroom, stifling my laughter as I envisaged him rolling his shoulders and scratching the top of his back all day at work. I tiptoed downstairs and waited in the hallway. George soon appeared fully dressed, and I handed him his briefcase and kissed him goodbye as he left our house. Smiling to myself as he reached around and awkwardly rubbed his neck, as he hurried down the driveway towards his car.

***

I don’t mind admitting, that this first day home alone I was rather easily bored. Dusting and hoovering could only pre-occupy the mind for so long, and by lunchtime I found myself making a martini to have with the remainder of the chicken salad I had prepared earlier. At 6pm, I found myself waiting with anticipation for George to arrive home. The house was pristine, and I was sat in our living room with I Love Lucy on the television, happily sipping on my third martini of the day.

I had poured George a large glass of his favourite bourbon for when he walked through the door, and a lamb pot-roast was slow-cooking in the oven. When George’s car finally pulled into the driveway, I couldn’t stop myself from running to the door to open it ready for him. I watched as he shuffled out of his 1958 Plymouth Fury, but as he approached our porch, I could see that his eyes were red and puffy, and he looked utterly miserable.  

“Darling,” I said as he walked through the door. “You look poorly, what’s happened? Was your day ok?”

George dropped his briefcase to the floor and all but snatched the glass of liquor from my hand. “It’s been terrible,” he replied. “The day from hell. We had an extremely important account meeting, and the darndest thing is that on my drive in I came over with a terribly irritating rash across my shoulders. I couldn’t stop itching all god-damn morning. And whatever it was that caused it spread to my eyes, I’ve been rubbing them all day. I can barely see.”

“Oh, my poor Georgie,“ I said putting my arm around him and leading him through the living room to his arm chair. I waited as he sat down, but as soon as he did so I started laughing. I could contain myself no longer.

He looked at me bemused, “What exactly is it that’s so funny?” he asked.

“April Fools!” I replied heartily, slapping my thigh as I did so. I was hysterical, tears of laughter were streaming down my face. He looked at me, shaking his head as if he didn’t understand what I had said to him. “April Fools,” I repeated. My face now relegated to a mere smile. “Talcum powder,” I explained. “I put talcum powder in your shirt for a joke.” He stared at me, stone-faced, the skin around his eyes puffed so large I could barely see the whites. “Are you ok darling?” I asked, a look of concern now spreading across my face. “It’s the first of April. Fool’s day, remember?”

George leant forward towards me. “Talcum powder?” he asked grimacing. “You put talcum powder in my shirt?”

“Yes Georgie,” I replied. I started laughing again, but this time a little more awkwardly.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” he asked, with a venom in his tone I had not heard before. The smile slowly fell from my face. “Do you know, what you’ve done?” He repeated through gritted teeth.

“No dear,” I replied. “It was just a little joke.”

“Oh, how very funny of you,” he said as he started clapping his hands together slowly in some kind of mocking applause. Clearly, he was incredibly angry. He stood up and started pacing around the room.

“Let me tell you about my day, shall I? So, we had a delegation from the largest electronics manufacturer in Japan visit for a presentation I was hosting. And it was a total fucking disaster. I could not stop scratching my back and rubbing my eyes. I could not focus or concentrate. I could not deliver the most important speech of my god-damn career. I became angry with myself, and my frustration and lack of composure deeply offended our guests. They left without signing the contract that was going to take the firm’s business to the next level.” He paused. “But it doesn’t end there. Oh no. I then spent the afternoon being interrogated by the partners of the firm. And do you know what happened next, darling wife of mine?”

“No George. I didn’t know you had an important presentation today. You never tell me anything about your work, how could I possibly …”

“I’ll tell you what happened,” he interrupted. “They’ve let me go. After five years of working my butt off for this company. I’ve actually been fired.” He stopped pacing and stared at me. “Do you realise, I’ve lost everything. We’ve lost everything!” He threw his glass to the floor. “April fools? You stupid fucking woman,” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “You’ve ruined us!”

I gulped down the rest of my drink and made towards him. But before I could put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, he turned and began walking away. I followed him into the kitchen, but he now ignored me completely and walked out into our garden. I lost sight of him as he went into the shed, and decided the best course of action was to pour myself another martini, and finish preparing dinner. We can sort this out. I told myself as a solitary tear dropped onto my cheek. It was just a little prank like my parents used to do, that’s all. I watched from the window as George walked back up the garden path towards our home, the light of the early evening sun glistening off of something shiny in his hands.

***

It was just a little harmless fun, I thought to myself a short while later as I lay on the kitchen floor, my head detached from its body. I watched through lifeless eyes as my husband sat sobbing, his hands darting between rubbing his eyes and scratching at his neck. The axe dripping with fresh blood on the floor next to him.

It appears that the brain is still active for a few seconds after a head has been decapitated. And as my life fades to an infinite darkness, I can’t help thinking that the joke is still on him. I guess he’ll be the one dishing up dinner now, and making his own sandwiches in the morning.   

*** END ***

Copyright 2025 Mark T. Bates

All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A version of ‘Dreaded Bliss’ first appeared as part of Crystal Lake Publishing’s ‘Shallow Waters’ series on their Patreon page (May 2025).

Mark T. Bates – Writer Bio

As a teenager Mark immersed himself in reading a cocktail of Stephen King, Clive Barker and James Herbert stories, while also diving deep into the movies of John Carpenter, David Cronenberg and Guillermo Del Toro. Gaining a life-long love of Horror, Fantasy and Sci-Fi which has transcended into a passion for telling his own tales.

Particularly drawn to the craft of short-story writing, Mark is inspired by the Night Shift and Skeleton Crew collections from King, Barker’s seminal Books of Blood, and stories from a diverse pool of authors including Chuck Palahniuk, Philip K. Dick and Joe Hill. 

Mark has had a number of short stories appear online as part of Crystal Lake Publishing’s Shallow Waters series, and his sinister period-tale – ‘A Burnt Offering’ – appeared on The Dark Corner blog.

His creepy supernatural novella – ‘The Curse Of Six’ – has been signed by RDG Books Press for release later in 2025, while his mystery thriller novella – ‘A Slow Decay of Flowers’ – has been signed by Baynam Books Press … arriving in 2026.

Mark can be found online via Instagram / Facebook / Bluesky / X.

‘The Curious Dark (Vol.1)’ – by Mark T. Bates