the 15 minute prompt

"A character will do laundry. A character is enraged throughout most of the story. The story must have a diadem appear in the middle. The story ends in a graveyard. During the story, someone turns another person in."


Stains all over the brand new clothes she bought him.  Stains everywhere.  Gold from beer, red from food, green from grass, brown from god knows what and some clear stains that remind her of when her kids have boogers, only their at the crotch of his new black suit pants.  He's been cheating for ages, but never left the remains in a place where she could see it.  With her fingers and breath on fire she continues to fold the clothes in the separate room while her children, the 5 year old and 7 year old, run back and forth carrying her youngest daughter's, the 3 year old, toys from one end of the home to the other.  However, their foolish activity can wait.  


Once in half, and in half again the opposite way over the hanger; that's how the pants went up.  The pants that smelled of another woman's private body parts, the parts that he wouldn't recognize if she shoved his face into herself.  She imaged his limbs inside of the shirts she folded, breaking and snapping as they folded in the correct direction.  How could she bring herself to marry the man who got her pregnant on the first day.


After slamming every door shut on her way out of the room, she was faced with the china cabinet in the hall.  Laying on the middle shelf was the diadem her great great grand mother's mother wore as princess of a nation that fell in the war.  Shinning gold and bright in the afternoon sun, it reminded her that her life could have been much different if she didn't settle.  She was royal, even if by her own standards, and deserved a man who would be with her.


And without much noise it happened.  She walked into the study where Frank was reading and picked up the jade globe that sat near the entrance.  He didn't even look at her when he asked what it was she needed, his eye were buried deep in the business section of the daily paper.  Four times she hit in on the head before his limp body fell from the chair and her rage followed him onto the ground where she continued to smash until there was a dent in his skull the size of their decorative globe.  In the closet was a suit, brand new still in the garment bag.  Quickly she unzipped the bag off the suit and wrapped her husband's bleeding skull inside of it, carrying him downstairs with a surprising ease, like taking out the laundry. 


She loaded the corpse in her car and took it three block away, where the Smithson Cemetery was.  Their home is large and was a good price due to the amount of graves close by.  She threw his body into the open grave and quietly walked back to her car.  She drove back home and shouted to her children, asking what they wanted for supper.  The only voice that seemed to respond was her oldest, the eleven year old, who said into the telephone "Yes, I think she killed him."