pt 1 in a series |
The Dying Love year of the blood I Knew hell was all around me. I could feel it. I could taste it. I could smell it. Like I said I knew it was around me but never in me until now. In my heart, in my soul it was. Yes, it was strong as it took control of my mind. The blinding white flashes of hatred filled my eyes when I saw the pictures of her neatly framed and arranged on his mantle above his fireplace. HIS mantle, HIS fireplace. She had been mine at one time. All mine. At one time we made love till the night’s end. At the time, at least, we called it love, now SHE calls it sex, just sex, nothing else. Just a lay, a good screw. At one time we would hug and kiss each and compliment each other. She was at one time, very important to me. Now, she’s dead. Shhhhhhhh….don’t tell anyone. He stepped back into the room carrying two cups of coffee. Sipping from one while he handed me the other. I took it but did not drink from it. It was too hot for that just yet. He wore his red velvety smoking jacket with black trousers on. His hair combed perfectly to one side with a perfectly trimmed beard and moustache. He smiled as he looked at me looking down into my cup of coffee. He smiled at me with a my shit don’t stink grin and asked me to please have a seat. I declined. Only staying for a short while. Looking somewhat disappointed he sat down on his lavish black leather couch and crossed his legs. He looked down to his coffee then back up at me. “What can I do for you then?” he asked politely yet sternly. I turned my back to him to study myself in the large gold trimmed mirror that hung over the mantle. My eyes focused on myself staring at me then drifted back down to the pictures of her. So beautiful she was. Standing there in various poses. One really caught my attention, though. She was standing there with him. They held each other closely. Smiling at the person taking the picture. Damn them. I laughed hysterically and turned around to face him. He set up a bit with a dumb, stunned look on his face. His red smoking jacket pulled open a bit. Peekaboo!!! I see your chest. I stepped towards him and swung my fist holding the cup of hot coffee at him. Knocking it and shattering it on his face. He staggered back a bit off of his couch then finally crashed down on the rich white carpet of the floor. He screamed some curse words as the hot coffee and blood mixed together. His eyes were shut tightly to keep whatever from going into them. I grabbed something from somewhere. I think it was a lamp from one of his end tables. Before he knew what was going to happen I slammed it down on his head. Knocking him out instantly. When his eyes opened again I had him lying on my bed. His hands tied to my bedposts, his feet bound by chains. He struggled to release himself but the blow to the head was too great. He looked up at me and mumbled something then rolled His head over to his left side. That’s when he saw her Lying there. Her body cold and limp, rigor mortis had yet to set in, she stared up towards the ceiling with a cloudy haze over her blue eyes. So pretty she was. Fear then took control of him and he yelled and screamed as he shook violently to free himself of His bonds. “sssssshhhhhh…my sweet prince” I spoke softly, “all will be well.” “wh..wh..what do you want?” he asked. “I wanted love…I wanted her love…” “She loved you…” he yelled. “But was with you…then, I wanted you, then, I wanted you both…now I can have you both…in my own private hell…” I stepped towards the bed and unbuckled my belt. “Care to dance?” I asked then laughed. the end…. |