The decorator

Written for Tipsy Lit Prompted: Who Needs Prophecy?


Mark ruminated their last conversation as he looked down at the phone on his bed.

‘Dude, you are such a douchebag. Ellie is sweet and trusting as a kitten.’

‘Man, do you know anything about felines? She is working this for herself. You wanna get tied up in her shit then go right ahead, but she ‘ain’t the little saint you take her for.’

‘You know nothing about this or her and I’m outta here. I’ll catch you later.’

‘You remember what I’m sayin’ here and go careful.’

Mark had made his way unsteadily towards the door, totally pissed with his friend. A month previous he would have laughed at the idea that he should up sticks and settle down with some girl, but in just a few short weeks Ellie had changed his way of thinking.

She had appeared in his trailer like a vision. White dress, sunlight behind her, long hair moving softly in the breeze. Unlike other potential clients she did not wish to book the services of a decorator, she wanted to take him out to dinner. From that moment on his life had felt surreal.

She explained dreamily about her church and the prophecy, how their leader had told her it was time she found a man and that Ellie would just know who to choose. Mark laughed at her mumbo jumbo but wasn’t going to turn her away. He wondered about her church’s view on sex.

He needn’t have worried. Ellie had talked a lot of pseudo religious claptrap but, when it came down to it, all this seemed to mean was that she wanted to take him back to her apartment and submit to his every whim. She talked and she talked, but so had every other girl Mark had ever tried to take to bed. He was having the time of his life.

A few days later the leader was at her apartment when he went round after work. He shook Mark’s hand and smiled benignly enough when Ellie introduced them. It had come as a bit of a shock when he had phoned Mark the next day and offered him the job.

Ellie had told him to do what he thought best, but explained sadly that she would be moving out to the ranch so would not be able to keep seeing him if he turned it down. The money was tempting but it was the prospect of Ellie that really swung it for him.

She had gone on ahead, but came back to collect him when he was ready for the move. Mark had felt inexplicably tired so had slept on the way out, arriving at the ranch with no idea how far he had travelled. Ellie didn’t come in with him, she had some business to sort and would be back as soon as she could. The old woman kept assuring him she would return but she never did.

The job took three full months, cash on completion. The ranch had sorely needed all those fresh coats of paint. Last night they must have drugged him again and then driven him to this motel. At least he finally had a signal here, even if his wallet remained empty.

Mark picked up his phone and called his friend; turned out he was the prophet after all.



7 thoughts on “The decorator

  1. that was a “bathtub full of ice” away from a kidney-snatching! I’m sure that wasn’t the long hard work Mark had intended with Ellie – poor bastard 😉 Enjoyed it!

  2. Pingback: Polling Prompted: Prophecy | Tipsy Lit

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