Six Feet Under

I stood still. I stood quiet. Like a predator I awaited her entrance. She was like a thing from another world a species all her own. And, I quietly paused watching for thesigns of her coming. She walked slowly in the incredible petrified world that surrounded her. And I…I was merely the face at the window that stared out everyday watching, waiting. And, now the moment was here. Her presence, her beauty, her champagne eyes were about to be captured for me to cherish forever.

I had waited from dusk till dawn for the perfect moment, and it was here. I watched her walk up all of the thirty-nine steps to her apartment. I saw the lock turn, then the knob. I made my move and I placed the cloth over her mouth. She fell to the floor.

She awoke several hours later bound to a chair. The blade was cold and I suspected intimidating by the fear that was reflected in her eyes, her beautiful fearfully alluring eyes. I continued twirling it about my fingers as I stared at her.

“Your beautiful, you know.” The way I spoke was meant to taunt her. “It’s never too late." Muffled cries escaped from her duct-taped mouth. I pictured her gorgeous lips in my mind. I smiled. “It’s never to late to fix what you have done to me.” I paused. “But I don’t think you’ll be doing that. So, now I must do to you what you have done to me”. I stood up and ripped the tape off her mouth. She let out a scream. As the blade caught a flash of light, she started crying.

“What did I ever do to you?” she whispered. Then she became eerily quiet.

“Do you not remember breaking my heart?” She looked up at me with confusion in her eyes. “Well, as they say, ‘an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth’”. I chuckled and said, “The nightmare never ends, does it, my love?” I looked out the window, it was near dark by this time. My anticipation was growing.

“It’s a shame I’m going to have to ruin that pretty face of yours,” I said as I paced back to where she was seated. I placed the knife to her cheek and made a tiny cut. “Crimson is a nice contrast on that pale skin of yours. She winced. I slowly turned away and then with one quick motion, I spun back around and drove the blade into her heart.

Her final shriek penetrated my foggy, surreal brain. She was dead and her champagne lifeless eyes stared at nothing in particular.

The twilight turned to a new moon as I patted the last of the dirt onto her grave. Our little Nightmare on Elm Street was now six feet under.

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