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I was a young man who had just graduated medical school. I was forced to do it because my parents had always wanted me to be a doctor and bring pride to my family. I had always wanted to be a professional golfer. The only problem was that I wasn’t very good. Source: https://newyorkessays.com/essay-a-literary-analysis-of-margaret-atwoods-happy-endings/

I was walking home late one evening, after a long day of work, when I saw a group of men harassing a lady on the street. The lady was gorgeous, wearing a beautiful blue dress that was impossible to ignore. Like the stereotypical Bollywood hero, I fought off her attackers and won her affection.

Over the next few weeks, we got to know each other well. We spent all of our free time together, laughing and talking all day. We were falling in love. The lady in the blue dress made me a better man. She pushed me to follow my dreams of playing professional golf and helped me realize that life is short and that being a doctor would mean that I was wasting my existence doing something that was not going to make me happy. I was spending my life making my parents happy, not myself.

We dated for a year, and were madly in love. Every night I would fall asleep with the lady in the blue dress, and every morning I’d wake up next to her. My life felt complete.

A few years passed, our relationship had gotten slightly mundane, as many tend to do. We spoke less, laughed less and joked less. I was playing professional golf and was really quite miserable at it. I hadn’t made any money on tour yet and was struggling to break even with all the traveling I had to do to stay on tour. Times were tough and things weren’t looking up. Every now and then I would reminisce about that blue dress and how, at one point in my life, it had been the answer to my toughest problems.

Time went on and things stayed the same. There was no excitement anymore, just routine. Everything that the lady in the blue dress represented to me began to fade. It no longer meant freedom, love, lust or excitement. It began to mean monotony, repeated conversations and sleeping on the far side of the bed.

Nine years into our marriage, I had a stroke of luck. I had won a PGA tour event and had been accepted to play in the Masters, one of the largest golf tournaments in the world. The Masters tournament was to start the following week. I ran home to my wife and told her about it and that I’d be playing in the tournament with all my heroes. She was excited for me, but she didn’t feel too well that day. I understood, made her some soup and tucked her in.

The Masters tournament started the following week, and I played the first round exceptionally well. My opening round of four under put me in a tie for the lead. I came home that evening, excited to tell my wife about my round. I was made uneasy by the presence of a doctor in my room, sitting beside my wife.

“I’m afraid your wife is very ill, sir.,” said the doctor. “She has a very rare condition for which no cure has been found. I am so sorry to say this, but she will die within the next three days. I advise you to stay by her side and take care of her in her final moments.”

No way I was going to sit around and do nothing! Dammit, I was going to save her life! This wasn’t any woman, this was my lady! My lady in the blue dress!

I got to work. My medical education as my arsenal, I scoured through every piece of information on her illness, gathered all the data and began running some tests. I worked for 11 hours straight and finally, came up with a potentially viable cure! (I understand that this is ridiculous, please don’t take it too seriously)

I was over the moon and couldn’t wait to go save my wife. But in that moment I had a thought. A thought that would define my very being.

“Did she really mean that much to me? I mean, we WERE in love. ARE we in love still? Does she even care about me?”

Oh these were dangerous questions to be asking at a dangerous time. In that moment I made a decision.

I promptly patented my medical cure and took out an expensive life insurance policy on my wife. I went and played the rest of the tournament, playing better golf than I had ever played before. My lead grew bigger and bigger, while my wife grew sicker and sicker. I eventually won the tournament, securing over a million dollars in prize money and much more in endorsements. My wife passed away that evening, followed by a heart wrenching funeral that not only paid for itself, thanks to the life insurance policy I took out, but also yielded a large profit that padded my bank account.

Over the next few weeks, I licensed my cure for the illness that my wife had had, making millions and millions of dollars in the process.

I wouldn’t say it was easy money. But I will say this. Life often loses its color. Most people have to settle for a life where the hues have been dampened. But maybe, just maybe, you’ll find your lady in the blue dress. I don’t know what she’ll look like, or what she’ll be like, but if she’s anything like my ‘Lady in the blue dress

It was safe to say that my teacher did not enjoy reading it as much as I had enjoyed writing it, I received a failing grade with a comment reading “This story lacks any moral direction. A story is meant to inspire and excite, not teach people that murder is OK.” That was my last bit of experimental writing for a school project.