Title: The Final Stroke

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It was a perfect Sunday morning on Pine Hill Golf Course, the kind where the sun filtered softly through the towering oaks, and the dew still clung to the grass. David loved these early rounds, away from the pressures of work, away from the prying eyes of the town. Here, he could breathe.

Today, however, was different. His heart raced not from the excitement of the game but from the stolen glances he exchanged with Chloe, his secret lover. She was everything his wife, Karen, wasn’t—youthful, vibrant, and unapologetically bold. They’d been seeing each other in secret for months, and the thrill of it made his blood sing.

They were on the 13th hole, a notorious par 5 lined with dense woods. David was just about to take his swing when Chloe let out a playful giggle, brushing her hand against his arm. He smiled, forgetting for a moment about everything else.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

A sudden chill swept across the course, a biting wind that seemed to come out of nowhere. The trees around them swayed violently, leaves rustling in an eerie symphony. David looked up, frowning. A storm hadn’t been in the forecast.

Just as he was about to resume his swing, a scream pierced the air. The sound was raw, filled with an emotion so primal it sent shivers down his spine. Chloe’s laughter died instantly, her eyes wide with confusion and fear.

Then, from the edge of the woods, Karen emerged.

Her usually pristine appearance was disheveled. Her hair hung in tangled strands, and her eyes—those eyes that once looked at him with love—now burned with a fury that bordered on madness. She was holding a golf club, her knuckles white from the grip.

“Karen?” David’s voice trembled, disbelief coloring his words. “What are you doing here?”

But Karen didn’t answer. Instead, she advanced, her steps slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. Her gaze flicked to Chloe, and a twisted smile curled on her lips.

“You think I didn’t know?” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. “You think I didn’t see?”

David tried to step between them, his mind racing to find a way to defuse the situation. “Karen, please, let’s talk about this.”

But it was too late. In a blur of motion, Karen swung the club. The sickening crack of metal meeting flesh echoed across the course as the club struck Chloe across the face. She crumpled to the ground with a cry, blood splattering the manicured grass.

David lunged forward, trying to pull Karen away, but she was relentless. She swung again and again, her face twisted in a grotesque mask of rage and satisfaction. Each blow was accompanied by a guttural scream, a release of all the anger, pain, and betrayal she had bottled up for so long.

Finally, when Chloe’s body lay still, broken and battered, Karen turned to David. Blood spattered her clothes and face, her chest heaving with exertion. But there was something else in her eyes now—a deep, unsettling calm.

David backed away, his heart pounding in his chest. “Karen…what have you done?”

She tilted her head, considering him for a moment. Then, without a word, she raised the club again.

David’s world spun as the metal connected with his skull. Pain exploded in his head, and he staggered backward, the taste of blood filling his mouth. He fell to his knees, the golf course spinning around him in a nightmarish blur.

As darkness closed in, the last thing he saw was Karen standing over him, her smile widening, her eyes gleaming with a satisfaction that chilled him to the bone.

The final stroke.

The course, once a place of peace and pleasure, now bore witness to a different kind of game—a game of love, betrayal, and a madness that ended in bloodshed. And as the sun set, casting long shadows across the 13th hole, Pine Hill Golf Course would forever be haunted by the memory of that fateful Sunday, where the line between love and hate was crossed with a single swing.

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The 13th hole would be remembered not for its difficulty, but for the twisted tale of rage and revenge that unfolded on its green. The course would never be the same, and neither would the players who dared to step onto its haunted grounds.

Yours truly,

Socially Out Of Bounds (SOB)