The Necklace Alternate Ending

Mme. Loisel glared at her husband in fear and choked, " I-I-I have not Mme. Forestier's necklace!"

He jumped up, frightened--

"What? How? This is not possible!" He paced back and forth. The floorboards squealed with his every step. Mme. Loisel patted her whole body down, although she had no pockets.

"Madam," M. Loisel had the voice of a tenor, "You have to find this necklace." His fear turned into anger. His anger transformed into guilt.

"If only I wouldn't have given her that invitation." As M. Loisel returned to reality, he heard the slight whimper of Mme. Loisel's sobs.

She sat on a half-cushioned couch, her face buried deep within her palms. When Monsieur was about to rub her back, she jumped up. Startled, M. Loisel asked what had gotten into her.

"Laney's Jewelry !" she yelled with a devilish grin.

"What about it?"

"Husband, it's time to get our hands dirty." M. Loisel looked at his hands.

"Dirtier than they already are?" he replied. They shared a tension-filled laugh, but this was no laughing matter. The plan had already been conjured.

The next day, the couple said nothing to each other. Only shiesty peeks here and there. Mme. Loisel forced herself not to tell Mme. Forestier what had happened to her necklace. Tears formed in Mme. Loisel's eyes, but didn't fall. A look of anxiety was plastered on her face. She bit her lip and looked at the square clock on the wall. Monsieur hugged her.

When the time came to carry out the deed, they were ready. They were dressed head to toe in black. Their faces were covered with towels, eyes and mouth holes cut out. Mme. Loisel winked, that was the signal.

They took a cab to 4th avenue where the jewelry store was located. (Prior to this, M. Loisel had borrowed money from many people. His logic was: instead of buying the neclace, he would purchase his gun. That way they could get more jewelry, and a better profit.) He walked into the jeweler with his glock hidden in his pants. His wife was behind him. They walked through and it seemed particularly quiet. No one was even behind the counter. It seemed like no one was in the back room either.

Mme. Loisel grabbed her husband's arm.

"This doesn't feel right. Where is everyone?" She looked around. "I think we should leave."

"No," Monsieur was talking in a whisper, "We've come this far. Now, you bust that glass and get the necklace. I'll get everything else."

Madam untied the towel from her head, wrapped it around her hand, and broke the glass of the jewelry case. An alarm rang, and the lights automatically shut off. M. Loisel panicked. He pulled out his gun and shot wildly in the dark. His mind played tricks on his eyes as he blatantly fired at imaginary shadows. When he came to his senses, he skimmed the wall for a power box. He found it. He turned the big switch upwards, and the truth speakers flashed on. He stared in horror at the floor. His mouth dropped open, chin almost touching the floor. Liquid sadness trickled from his eyes. He fell to his knees. His pants soaked up some of the thick fluid.

On the ground layed Mme. Loisel, Mme. Forestier, and Mr. Laney. Their corpses were stretched in a shallow pond of blood. Mme. Loisel had the necklace in her hand, her arm was outstrecthed and Mme. Forestier was holding the other side of the tyrant. Mme. Loisel crawled to his wife's body, and kissed her lifeless forehead. He began to weep uncontrollably. He put the barrell to his temple. The blast could be heard all the way back to the ballroom.