Tuesday, April 18, 2006

# story # writing

Forever Endings

Smiling, he took her by the hand and led her back into the very room they had shared the night before. He had taken the time to place small candles and flowers all around. He led her to the bed and only left her for a moment while he closed the curtains and lit the candles. Then, taking her into his arms, he held her while he told her all the things that he knew she wanted to hear. He told her that he was a fool for ever letting her drive away. He told her that he had wanted to be with her for years. Caught up in his words, she missed the look in his eyes as he filled her head with words of love and longing.

She never spoke a word. She pressed against him, lost in her love for him.  She believed every word coming from those gorgeous lips. Now that he had confessed his love for her, all the pain was washed away and she gave herself to him completely. She poured herself into their kisses as he began nibbling on her lips. His hands glided over her body and she whimpered in delight. he urged her to close her eyes as he guided her back on the bed. He wanted her fully steeped in the feelings he was creating in her. She never noticed his one hand sliding under the pillow. She never saw what he had hidden under there. She only felt the searing pain as the scalpel drove deep into her chest.

It cut deep and it cut sure. Her eyes were open now in terror as he sliced through her delicate skin. With one hand, he muffled her screams. With the other, he wielded the blade as if it were a part of him. Quick and sure, it cut and in mere moments, her screams were reduced to silence as her body went into shock.

He smiled down into her eyes as he reached over and pulled a small cooler towards him. He has left it in plain sight knowing she would assume it held wine or some other delight to celebrate their love with. He chuckled to himself. "How foolish women are," he thought. Then, reaching in, he cut her still beating heart from the very chest that he has laid against the night before.  Gently, as if it were made of gold, he placed it inside the waiting cooler before turning again to the woman on the bed.

In some ways, this was his favorite part. he prided himself in his ability to set a scene. If she had noticed how he had changed the sheets to deep red, he would never know but he delighted now in how they looked against the pale white of her skin. Reaching down, he arranged them just so over her body.  If anyone came in, they would simply think she was peacefully sleeping. That was until they noticed the blood red rose that he had placed in her hands after closing lids over her big brown eyes.

Leaning over again, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Then, with one last check to be sure all was right, he gathered his things. At the door, he slipped the do not disturb tag over the knob and looked back one last time. He had never done that before but he had almost loved this one. Almost.

He tossed his gear into his car, texted someone to let them know the job was done and smiled at himself in the rear view mirror. Already, he has closed himself off from what he had just done and was mentally slipping into the role he would play onstage that night; that of a madman.

" I am but mad north-north-west:  when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw. " ~William Shakespeare
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