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       Dear Martha, p.1

           Phil Graham
Dear Martha
Day 7

  Dear Martha,

  The monotony of my mundane existence continues to haunt me at every turn. The governing bodies of the world persist in sending their warriors to die in order to maintain the existence of imaginary lines which divide up the planets natural resources. I despair, Martha. I despair of the world on which these people reside. It’s only a matter of time before there’s nothing left to sustain human life. Technological advancement in the home seems to be the only thing that really matters to anybody else. Who are they without the biggest TV or the newest phone or computer? That would bring them a step closer to reverting back to being peaceful, non-competitive and selfless hunter gatherers and apparently we just can’t have that.

  Anyway you know how my sulky Monday face is. You’ve seen it before and had to put up with the incessant whining that goes with it. I apologise for my rant. Sometimes I wish you could speak back to me and I wonder cautiously what you’d say.

  Maxine cancelled on me today which has put me in a worse mood but it’s only until tomorrow. Something about covering somebody else’s shift. She’s a sweet girl, Maxine. She understands me in a way that very few people seem to. The conversation never becomes dull.

  I suppose I could go for a few drinks with the lads tonight and take my mind off waiting. There’s not much else going on in this little town today. I will resume our communication tomorrow, Martha.

  Love always, Cameron.

  Day 6

  Dearest Martha,

  I’m feeling a lot brighter and more confident today despite the slight hangover.

  I made a new friend last night. His name is Louis Walker and he’s a marketing consultant for a large and quite classy clothing store. I find his obsession with capitalist ideology fascinating. He seems perfectly happy and blissful in his astounding ignorance doing what he does, however debilitating it may be to others who are led to part with their hard-earned currency in order to obtain frivolous and grossly overpriced apparel.

  After an hour or so of his drunken ranting about the capabilities of his new car, he departed outside for a cigarette. At this point I observed a window, through which I made my escape, metaphorically speaking, obviously. I didn’t actually jump out of a window. I look forward to seeing more of him in the future through a fresh pair of eyes. Hopefully I will be able to contain my frustration.

  Maxine came round this afternoon. She’s been acting a bit distant with me today, I’m not sure why. She’s probably had a tough day at work. The atmosphere in here is decidedly uncomfortable. I’m so glad I’ve got you, Martha. I know you’d never let me down. Anyway I’d better disappear and get back to making dinner. Maybe it’ll improve her mood a little bit.

  Lots of love, Cameron.

  Day 5

  Dear sweet Martha,

  Maxine snuck out before I woke up this morning. I’ve no idea what’s going on but never mind. Women are complicated creatures.

  I helped an old lady across the road today. She almost walked straight out in front of a wagon so I parked my car and quickly ran out to stop her. I must have been gone all of two minutes and I returned to find a detestable, sadistic capitalist peon had left a parking ticket behind my windscreen wiper! I am infuriated! I’m being fined Forty-Five pounds for merely doing a good deed for the day and aiding an infirm, vulnerable member of my community.

  The system revolts me, Martha. I’m disgusted with the society in which I live. I read a newspaper article this morning depicting a Four-year-old girl crying alone in a shopping centre. The article rather bluntly insinuated anyone who would refuse to help her would be being an evil scoundrel. In our society if I was to help the little girl I would be instantly accused of being a sexual predator. The whole idea frankly makes me detest this world. Although, don’t worry about the horrid council lackey who maligned me today, Martha. His time will come.

  That’s all for today, it’s been a relatively dull one.

  Love, your dearest Cameron.

  Day 4

  Darling Martha,

  I couldn’t sleep last night. I tried to get an early night but I just lay awake and thought of things I’d like to say to that loathsome little maggot who defaced my car yesterday with a parking ticket. I ended up back in the pub on the other side of the street. As I sipped at my pint of stout and joined in with the usual conversation about the music of the 1970s, I was greeted again by my new money-obsessed drinking partner, Louis.

  Today, he was showing off a new tablet device he’d just spent several hundred pounds on, that day. I couldn’t understand his fascination with this piece of pointless electronic rot and found it very difficult to admire his enthusiasm on the subject. Frankly, for the most part, he just got on my nerves and made me even more irate than I felt some hours previously as I stared angrily at my bedroom ceiling.

  Anyway, today I’m going to surprise my dear Maxine at her house with a box of chocolates and a bunch of flowers. I’m aware of the superficial nature of my actions but if it improves the situation I am perfectly willing to sacrifice a small fraction of my integrity as an anti-establishmentarian. I’m sure it will be fine. She’ll explain to me why she’s been so cold with me and I will forgive her without a second thought. Life goes on as normal; the world continues to move in perpetual motion around the sun.

  Wish me luck, Martha.

  Forever yours, Cameron.

  Day 3

  My dear Martha,

  I am incensed. Yesterday I was so angry; in fact, I went straight from Maxine’s house to the nearest drinking establishment and spent the entire day drinking myself into a pathetic stupor. As I walked in through Maxine’s front door, there she laid on the sofa, another man in her arms whom I did not recognise, both naked as the day they were born. I couldn’t even bring myself to await an explanation. I dropped the wrapped contents of my hands and stormed out, furiously slamming the door behind me.

  As I wake up this morning to the horrid memory of my behaviour, I am angrier with myself than I could ever be with her. I have been a very difficult man to live with of late, I’ve been very pre-occupied with my work, about which I cannot divulge any information to her. I am, in reality, the one who is cold and distant. I am the one who is harsh and unjust and unfair. She was bound to flee to the arms of another man eventually. My clouded mind simply dismissed it.

  I thank all the divine powers in the universe that I still have you, Martha. Without you in my life, I’d be well and truly lost. Even speaking to you now without hearing your reply is helping my mind formulate new ideas and solutions. You are a truly remarkable entity, Martha. You have been here by my side when there was nobody else. Today, I spend my time recovering from a crippling hangover and hope tomorrow will be better.

  Yours, now and forever, Cameron.

  Day 2

  Dearest Martha, my sun and sky,

  The necessary preparations have been made for tomorrow. The room is set out perfectly, the car is ready and I’m looking forward to it as I do each and every week. Saturday cannot move fast enough! The big feast is upon us and I can barely contain my excitement!

  In my ecstasy, I have put that frightful harlot out of my mind for good. After only two days, under the correct circumstances, she is but a distant memory in the back of my mind. She is a song once sung but now the words and the tune are lost in ruins like the obliterated cities of old. She is the Pompeii, the Mycenae of my life history. Her existence will live on as a faded scar on the outer skin of my constantly tortured soul.

  My sympathies have become slightly lax of late and for that, I apologise exclusively to you, my dear Martha. I have started to lose my way; to waiver from side to side clumsily down the street of my humble existence. I don’t wish to feel unhappy with the world, or to fear it; I wish to help it understand
the ideology which can revitalise its people. First, though, I must grab its attention. I will resume tomorrow when the festive proceedings are taken care of.

  Love always, Cameron.

  Day 1

  My dearest, my sweet, beautiful Martha!

  The day has come to complete my week’s work. I am ecstatic once more! I am reborn into the world! I took my usual parking space in the town’s back alley and awaited my new capitalist friend, Louis. He was surprised to see me as I offered him a coffee at my home and he agreed to come round and discuss the finer points of global economic growth.

  As he arrived I rendered him unconscious with a few drops of chloroform on a tea towel, snuck stealthily around the side of his face to abruptly cover his mouth. As I am writing this, he is chained to the ceiling in the cellar in the usual place. I am just awaiting the sound of his screaming through the baby monitor before finishing the job. I will resume our communication presently.

  I have returned from the cellar and the world is rid of one more evil being. Another cog has been stripped of its teeth so it may no longer serve its purpose nor hold its place among the turning wheels of the vicious plutocratic machine.

  As I listened to him beg for his life and watched him writhe around in the chains trying to escape his binds, it gave me great pleasure to watch the life fade from his weary eyes as I drew my blade across his throat, cleaving his common Carotid Artery before driving the knife into his heart, puncturing his Left Ventricle and severing his Inferior Vena Cava. He bled quickly into the strategically placed clear plastic on the cellar floor.

  After the last choking breath left his body I removed his chains and wrapped him in the plastic to be disposed of in the usual way. The body will be dismembered and left to soak in the bath after I fill it with hydrochloric acid.

  We are again, one more step closer to utopian equilibrium. For another week, I appear to be safe from the clutches of law enforcement. Next week I believe I should pay a visit to a certain traffic warden with whom I became acquainted the other day. As I’m talking to you, I’m just sipping at a nice single malt to celebrate. Tonight’s guest was kind enough to bring it with him as a gift in return for my hospitality (or that’s the way I’m presently looking at it).

  My darling, sweet Martha, I will reacquaint myself with your company tomorrow for a new seventh day but for now, there is last minute work to be done.

  Yours, always and forever,


  Dear Martha

  By Phil Graham

  Copyright 2014 Phil Graham

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