All Stories, General Fiction

The Woman Who Married The Man Who Could Throw His Voice by David Henson

I met a man named Frank today. He knows how to throw his voice. He said he learned it from his dad. Fun!

Frank took me hunting. I guess you’d call it a date. “Squeeze the trigger, Tina, don’t jerk it,” the shotgun told me when we saw the doe. I couldn’t bring myself to shoot. Frank seemed disappointed. I hope he asks me out again.


He did! And we’ve been seeing each other more and more. Today we went to the market just like a married couple. I hope that’s what we’ll be one day. We were in the produce section when Frank nudged me with his elbow and winked. “Hey, careful! You’re going to give me a headache,” the cantaloupe said to the woman who had just tapped it with her finger.

The woman jerked her hand away from the melon. I tried to keep from laughing, but sputtered a giggle. I apologized to the lady and told her my boyfriend was just showing off. She said she didn’t think it was very funny. Frank told the woman to get a sense of humor.


Frank took me to dinner at a new restaurant and had some fun again. As the waiter started to leave after taking our order, the empty chair across from Frank said “What about me?” The waiter turned quickly toward the sound of the voice. The chair said “I’m hungry, too, and I’m picking up the tab. You’re not going to get a very good tip if you keep ignoring me.” The waiter looked at Frank, shook his head, and walked away. Then it happened! Frank gave me a ring. I’ll never forget how the little diamond sparkled in the candlelight. “Tina,” the ring said, “I want you to marry me.” I was so excited, I answered the ring instead of Frank.


I’m growing used to the give and take of married life. This morning the two of us were in the bathroom getting ready for work when the mirror told me I’d look better with longer hair.

I tried to laugh it off. “Mirror, Mirror, on wall,” I said, “I like it this way.” Plus, it’s easy to take care of, I explained, combing my fingers through my hair and shaking my head. I tried to give Frank a little kiss. He pulled away.

“You’ll look better with longer hair,” the mirror said again.

I canceled my next appointment for a cut. Give and take.


This evening, when I started to pour myself a glass of wine, the bottle told me I drink too much. If either of us has a problem, it’s Frank. But I didn’t say anything.


At breakfast this morning, I asked Frank if I could top off his cup. When he didn’t answer, I did so anyway and dribbled a little coffee. “Can’t you do anything right?” the carafe hissed at me. I tried to pretend it actually was the carafe that said it and not my husband.


Last night I was eating a cookie when it told me I was getting fat. I told the cookie it was getting bald. I thought we were just kidding around. It was the wrong time to say something like that. Frank was already upset he didn’t get a deer this season. Plus he’d been drinking. This morning I have a big bruise on my arm. It was my own fault. I have to learn to watch what I say.


Frank’s smile was frozen, and his lips didn’t move, when the refrigerator told me to put ice on my eye. I’ve wracked my brain trying to think of what I said or did to provoke him.


Frank gave me beautiful roses. “I love you. I’ll change,” they sang a dozen times.



I told the doctor in the emergency room that I’d slipped in the shower. Was I clinging to the song of the flowers? Did Frank put the words in my mouth?


I locked myself in the bathroom. Frank almost broke down the door. I crept out when I heard snoring. As I stood looking down at him, his eyes flickered, and a voice came from the corner. It was his shotgun calling my name.


I saw my lawyer again. I told her I’m still hearing Frank’s voice. This morning it screamed from the bathroom mirror. She said that’s OK. It might help with my defense.


David Henson

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13 thoughts on “The Woman Who Married The Man Who Could Throw His Voice by David Henson”

  1. Hi Dave, I have mentioned before what a skilled story-teller you are. This is one helluva example!
    The simplicity of the idea is breathtaking and it is one of those stories where I wonder why, no-one has thought of it before.
    Originality within a common theme is a difficult thing to do. You’ve done it brilliantly.
    This is a story that I wish I had written!!
    All the very best my friend.


  2. I enjoyed reading this – for the writing honest.
    I liked how this started in a light upbeat tone and slowly developed into a dark pot of tension.
    The metaphoric blame game was so typical, it wasn’t Frank it was the voice from the objects that must be to blame and the final turn when the voice had taken over her mind through constant psychological abuse , I wonder who was to blame for Frank’s demise.


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