I sat in my rocking chair, it was a late Saturday evening and I was completely exhausted from the day’s work at the press, because after all, exposing and unraveling mysteries of today’s society can become quiet exhausting. As I leaned back in my chair I started to explore the quaint queries that fancied my mind, and as I explored I was reminded of my late fiance. “Oh Victoria” I thought with a sigh, “sweet beautiful Victoria, had I only been there to protect you.” I closed my eyes and visions of my bride danced in my mind: her oceans of brunette hair flowing past her shoulder in perfect waves, her heart- shaped face blessed with beautiful, plush lips so perfect only one could dream to draw them. Her eyes like a lustful tempest breaching the ocean’s shore: the deep blue waves submissive to the orders of the grey overcast, as I am submissive to her sweet transgressions that stole my heart. I dreamt of kissing her, holding her one last time, telling her I love her, telling her goodbye: for the day I saw the blood free- flowing from her throat, was they day I vowed vengeance against the one who had slain my betrothed and took her hand. Yes, they took her hand, the left one, with the ring. Yes, the ring that signified our undying love for each other, the precious band encrusted with diamonds, rubies and other jewels signified my everlasting love and commitment to her, and someone stole it, not only stole it, but brutally murdered her by slicing open her jugular; but it did not stop there, o no. Not only did they brutally murder her, o no, they violated by haphazardly cutting off her hand with a knife from my own cutting block, then leaving her mangled body in the middle of the parlor floor for me to witness the gruesome seen. O the the horror I felt when I saw her frail and broken frame strewn across the floor in mangled twists and turns that only the dead can imitate. O the grief I was stricken with the second I saw her lying there. I stopped dead in my tracks- horrified beyond the capacity of rational speech or thought, the only thing I could manage to do was let out a sharp cry, a yelp of sorts, of complete disbelief and despair. My hand started to tremble as strong as the tremors that lurk beneath the earth as I subconsciously raised them to my face as I let out another deafening cry. Then another, and another, and another until they transformed into gut wrenching sobs. The tears streamed down my face and suddenly my lips parted and spoke one audible word: “Victoria,” I screamed, then with one rush of emotion everything came out once: rage, frustration, anger, sorrow, remorse, fear, hate... A hate that was so strong I can’t even put a name to it, there are no words to describe the sheer bitterness i felt for the one who took the life of my beloved. And with this sudden yet brief feeling of Indescribable hate, I fell into a psychotic state: screaming, crying, shaking, harder and louder then before, as if the that magnificent hate I had suddenly felt moments ago had disappated into an emotion that can only be described as the hysteria a demon must fall into when confronted by God Almighty himself; and like a demon trying to escape the judging gaze of the lord, I fell into a frantic sprint towards my beloved. “Victoria!” I screamed, and in those few seconds I was running towards he it felt as if time itself slowed down; making it so every second feel like an eternity, allowing the hysteria of extreme emotions settle deep into my very core until my legs finally collapsed beneath me and I landed at my dead beloved’s body. “Victoria!” I cried again as I grabbed her by her shoulder to lift her up to meet my face (for she was face down) and I was met with a sickening shock as her eye rolled to the back her skull, revealing only the whites of her eyes; leaving this once beautiful and alive creature looking soulless and demonic. And in the same instance her head carelessly fell backwards; revealing what was a horribly deep gash in her throat, and due to the lack of support it caused it to rip even wider, sending a new ocean of blood poor out the wound. “O god.” I managed to choke out through through heavy sobs and streams of tears. “Victoria” I choked out again as I lifted her head, giving her neck support and closing the wound that still continued to trickle blood down her long neck. “Victoria” I cried even louder as I lifted her face up to mine, looking into the white of her eyes in disbelief, looking for a sign of life, looking for hope, “Victoria” I screamed. In the horror of realization, a new stream of tears came pouring down my face as screams followed; I pressed my lips passionately against hers; searching for life, in a sick hope of a fairytale ending, in the sick and vain prayer that the spark of my kiss would reawaken my only love; but her lips, cold, dead, limp and with the sweet taste of blood on her tongue left me with no response; and when there was no response my heart fell into total darkness at the loss of the one who meant everything to me, she was gone, forever, and so was I.
I opened my eyes. they stared blankly into the abyss of shadows dancing along the walls of the parlor, a mixture of suppressing emotions entered my mind, leaving it defenseless; opting it to be open to the next rash impulse that crossed my mind, and the next thought, rash it was. I eyed the doorway leading to the kitchen with will ill content, memories of blood dancing in my head. Many men wanted her, and many women envied the ring, but I thought none would care so deeply of earthly objects to leave my loved one cold and dead to me. I closed me eyes once more, visions of the fair Victoria laying in my arms on the floor. The panic and the hysteria filling my lungs as I cried out, shaking because my world hath spun. I looked in haste, confused, in a daze, I glanced around the room for any sign, any trace. A trail of blood dripped to the kitchen, a fine splattered, so thick so long, how could you miss it? I went to grab her hand, to reach it to my face, to promise her, her memory will not die on this day. Alas I grabbed nothing, nothing but air, more confusion filled my mind for I was unaware that there, was nothing. There I looked down slowly, horror dancing in my mind as my eyes notice blood still flowing from the limb detached with jagged edges, her hand was missing, the ring was missing, my love, was missing. I cried again, but with more anger and desperation than before, stood up in rage and began to head for the door. “I will find you!” I screamed in my rising hatred and disdain, “I will kill you!” I screamed my mind reaching a temperature that only furthered my disease, my voice grew in volume, my mind in rage; I reached my to the knife block when yet again the sensation of nothingness was made. It’s gone. My thoughts froze, my minded blank, me eyes widened when I turned to see the sight. “No, No, No, No, No! I screamed, as I saw the trail of watered- down blood leading to the sink. I ran in over in hurry, my mind a frantic and blurry as I peared in to the silver, my lip could only quiver at the sight of my reflection bouncing of the bloody knife. “No!” I screamed in desperation! “No!” I hit the floor, “No!” I screamed in sorrow, I couldn’t take the torment anymore; “No! My dear Victoria, taken by my own hand! No!” I cried on in heavy draining tears “No! No! No!”...
I cleared my mind, I stared blankly ahead, my mind falling in an out of focus. I stared at the kitchen door, dark shadows swirling, beckoning, me to step into the unknown. I lifted myself form my chair, my mind filled with apathy and confusion, though I had already made my decision. I slowly and steadily made my way to the kitchen; my feet dragging at each step, trying to stop me from my ill- willed fate; I reached the doorway. I stared into the room, malaise glazing my eyes; the moonlight spilled in from the window above the sink, it glimmered off the white tile, revealing the shapes and figures that twisted in the black abyss belonging to shadows that now danced in a congregation around dreadful room; their sick ballet enchanting me with their hypnotic twists and turns. They beckoned me to step forward, for I heard nothing, but all I feel is come. Come, my body tells me, as I am drawn farther into the depths of the shadows by an unknown force. Come they whisper, the shadows grabbing me, pleading me to join their senseless dance. Come, they say throwing me forward into the counter, my hands catch me on the edge of marble; my finger subconsciously glides across the counter top to a single drawer. My fingers coast along the grain of the wood; they finger finger the secrets lying inside, they fear to open it, I can tell... But my compulsions decides otherwise. I slowly open the drawer, at first it appears hollow and black, until the silver moonlight pours in, revealing the item wrapped in the old and tattered white cloth. My hands shake as they near the mess of jumbled fabric, they stop in fear; but yet again the shadows push me forward, forcing me to be their lead dancer, I grasp the waring cloth that conceals the item of my defeat. Emptiness fills my mind as the shadows pull my hand up so I can face the tormentor of my dreams; the bundle of white slowly succeeds as it reveal a blade stain and rusted from unwashed blood. I blankly stare at it, my emotions unable to surface; the shadows bow out, allowing light to gleam of the slayer of worlds, revealing my solemn expression to reflect back at me; I stare back. I study the depths of my eyes, the emptiness that has filled them, the deep controlling apathy discoloring the irises to portray a hollow human being; the pupils dialated to show my insanity. I press my tongue against my lips as a distraction as my reflection escapes my gaze as I raise the blade to my heart; “My dear love, I will never leave you,” I pressed the steal tip against my heart, “For you took my lover, now you shall take me...” There was a crash. I dropped the knife. I turned my head to the parlor; my eyes and ears searching for whatever material item had fallen, causing the terrible noise. I walked out of the kitchen, the ruined knife still in hand, I stared into the empty space of the parlor; nothing seemed out of place, nothing knocked over, no item disturbed, no book out of place; my eyes looked down as I turned to sweep myself back into the kitchen, then, I noticed it. Under the rug near the patch still stained form blood there appeared to be so me form of bump. I tiny bump, not abnormally big, but not abnormally small, lying there beneath the rug. In my study I moved closer in my curiosity, knife forward, to ready to strike if there need be reason a for such a the blow. It remained still and quiet, not a movement nor a quiver did it seem. I crouched down close to it, just inches away; I stretched my weapon forward and poked it with just the tip, just the tip, nothing more, nothing less. It jumped towards me in furry, I stumbled backwards in my immediate horror, landing on my back; it came closer, faster, anger presented in its speed. I kicked my legs back attempting to move away, but it only gained ground towards me; nearly scraping my leg. I screamed as my dear friend hysteria excitedly rushed back into my being; I rolled away quickly but it only drew came closer, faster, faster, faster then a freight train, faster, as it bumped my leg. My screeching grew more uncontrolled and frantic as I forced myself to jump to my feet, stumbling at the lack of balance my bound had caused me; I turned around to strike it down, but noticed my only source of protection lying on the ground. I screamed again, louder, my heart pounding faster, by breathing reaching hyperventilation as my mind was destroyed with hysteric devastation. I stumbled again when it began to near again, I turned around looking for some object that would defend against this demon torturing me with its quickness. The chair I thought, “The chair!” I screamed out loud in victorious realization, I whirled around and sprinted towards my destination, and my tormentor raced behind me searching for it’s pensions; I grabbed the arms of my chair, for this devil was unaware of his demise closely drawing near. “Die!” I screamed as I began to swing my seat over my head... Silence. The bump fell dead; not a movement, not a sound, not the slightest stir or twitch, just peace; as if my words had caused this unknown terror to suddenly fall dead. I slowly lowered the chair, placing it on it’s side. I slowly stepped full- circle around the abnormality, in the pure hopes I would not disturb it’s slumber, causing it yet again spring to life. I began so sweat from anticipation as I reached my knife, my shaky hands reached down, barely touching the hilt. I scraped my fingers against the smooth wood until the knife drew close enough to my hand for me to able to firmly grasp it. Picking it up I backed away slowly to the edge of the rug, making sure my eyes remained where the sly demon lay asleep taunting me, torturing me with anticipation and anxiety at it’s stillness... I reached the end of the rug, eyes still fixed on whatever lay under the rug... With knife still in hand I reached my finger tips under the rug, praying to the lord, pleading for protection as I began to lift the rug to reveal whatever horror lay underneath. My body began to shake as it’s form came into view, my prayers became more panicked and hastened; I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes, ripping the rug from the ground and automatically pouncing back, holding the stained razor outwards to my chest, ready to strike; but my eyes filled with whimsical horror at what I saw. A hand. A pale, dainty, white left hand from the wrist down, with a silver- jewel encrusted band encircling the ring finger. It balanced there on nothing but the very tips of it’s ring, index and middle fingers; giving it the appearence of floating on thin air. It’s appendages were graceful and long, the skin so white you could see the soft blue of the veins below; it’s form so perfect and delicate the great sculptors of the Renaissance could only dream of sculpting something half it’s stature. There was all but one flaw: the flesh near the wrist was jagged and torn, and stained deep red; as if it had been... severed. “Oh my God,” I let out in a soft cry as the knife fell from my hand, hitting the ground and though it was silent, a sound rang out that seemed to last for hours; then I fell in to a sprint. A sprint one can only compare to as demon trying to escape the judging gaze of the lord, the same sprint I fell into when I saw my beloved Victoria slain on the floor. Every second felt like an eternity before I finally reached the detached hand, I scooped it up in mine and marveled at how as it reacted at my touch; relaxing, running it’s smooth finger down the lengths of my arms it could reach. The skin was soft as silk and brought back the warmth of a memory lost so long ago; I teared up as I brought it close to my face to study the ring, the ring that symbolized my undying love for my dear Victoria, it lay untouched on the the left finger. The rubies still lay intact, the diamonds still polished, the silver still stainless and the strength of our love still undefeated. I pursed my lips and leaned forward and kissed the top the ring, in retort one finger softly glided down my lips chin, I smiled. The hand relaxed and I flipped it over to study the palm... My jaw fell and tears began to flow down my face as I read the note that was carved into the tissue:
I paused trying to recollect my thoughts, I stared at the hand, at the scars that healed mine; I grabbed it, lacing the fingers between mine as euphoria replaced sorrow. My eyes wandered to my journalism notepad for the paper that laid on the small side table next to where my chair use to be. I slowly walked over, emotions and thoughts I do not have a name for racing through my head, but for the first time in a long time, they were not terrifying in nature. I knelt down in front of the table and with one hand grabbed the notepad and flipped it to a new page as set it back down. I picked up a pen, and with Victoria’s beautiful hand reunited in mine at last, I began to write.
I opened my eyes. they stared blankly into the abyss of shadows dancing along the walls of the parlor, a mixture of suppressing emotions entered my mind, leaving it defenseless; opting it to be open to the next rash impulse that crossed my mind, and the next thought, rash it was. I eyed the doorway leading to the kitchen with will ill content, memories of blood dancing in my head. Many men wanted her, and many women envied the ring, but I thought none would care so deeply of earthly objects to leave my loved one cold and dead to me. I closed me eyes once more, visions of the fair Victoria laying in my arms on the floor. The panic and the hysteria filling my lungs as I cried out, shaking because my world hath spun. I looked in haste, confused, in a daze, I glanced around the room for any sign, any trace. A trail of blood dripped to the kitchen, a fine splattered, so thick so long, how could you miss it? I went to grab her hand, to reach it to my face, to promise her, her memory will not die on this day. Alas I grabbed nothing, nothing but air, more confusion filled my mind for I was unaware that there, was nothing. There I looked down slowly, horror dancing in my mind as my eyes notice blood still flowing from the limb detached with jagged edges, her hand was missing, the ring was missing, my love, was missing. I cried again, but with more anger and desperation than before, stood up in rage and began to head for the door. “I will find you!” I screamed in my rising hatred and disdain, “I will kill you!” I screamed my mind reaching a temperature that only furthered my disease, my voice grew in volume, my mind in rage; I reached my to the knife block when yet again the sensation of nothingness was made. It’s gone. My thoughts froze, my minded blank, me eyes widened when I turned to see the sight. “No, No, No, No, No! I screamed, as I saw the trail of watered- down blood leading to the sink. I ran in over in hurry, my mind a frantic and blurry as I peared in to the silver, my lip could only quiver at the sight of my reflection bouncing of the bloody knife. “No!” I screamed in desperation! “No!” I hit the floor, “No!” I screamed in sorrow, I couldn’t take the torment anymore; “No! My dear Victoria, taken by my own hand! No!” I cried on in heavy draining tears “No! No! No!”...
I cleared my mind, I stared blankly ahead, my mind falling in an out of focus. I stared at the kitchen door, dark shadows swirling, beckoning, me to step into the unknown. I lifted myself form my chair, my mind filled with apathy and confusion, though I had already made my decision. I slowly and steadily made my way to the kitchen; my feet dragging at each step, trying to stop me from my ill- willed fate; I reached the doorway. I stared into the room, malaise glazing my eyes; the moonlight spilled in from the window above the sink, it glimmered off the white tile, revealing the shapes and figures that twisted in the black abyss belonging to shadows that now danced in a congregation around dreadful room; their sick ballet enchanting me with their hypnotic twists and turns. They beckoned me to step forward, for I heard nothing, but all I feel is come. Come, my body tells me, as I am drawn farther into the depths of the shadows by an unknown force. Come they whisper, the shadows grabbing me, pleading me to join their senseless dance. Come, they say throwing me forward into the counter, my hands catch me on the edge of marble; my finger subconsciously glides across the counter top to a single drawer. My fingers coast along the grain of the wood; they finger finger the secrets lying inside, they fear to open it, I can tell... But my compulsions decides otherwise. I slowly open the drawer, at first it appears hollow and black, until the silver moonlight pours in, revealing the item wrapped in the old and tattered white cloth. My hands shake as they near the mess of jumbled fabric, they stop in fear; but yet again the shadows push me forward, forcing me to be their lead dancer, I grasp the waring cloth that conceals the item of my defeat. Emptiness fills my mind as the shadows pull my hand up so I can face the tormentor of my dreams; the bundle of white slowly succeeds as it reveal a blade stain and rusted from unwashed blood. I blankly stare at it, my emotions unable to surface; the shadows bow out, allowing light to gleam of the slayer of worlds, revealing my solemn expression to reflect back at me; I stare back. I study the depths of my eyes, the emptiness that has filled them, the deep controlling apathy discoloring the irises to portray a hollow human being; the pupils dialated to show my insanity. I press my tongue against my lips as a distraction as my reflection escapes my gaze as I raise the blade to my heart; “My dear love, I will never leave you,” I pressed the steal tip against my heart, “For you took my lover, now you shall take me...” There was a crash. I dropped the knife. I turned my head to the parlor; my eyes and ears searching for whatever material item had fallen, causing the terrible noise. I walked out of the kitchen, the ruined knife still in hand, I stared into the empty space of the parlor; nothing seemed out of place, nothing knocked over, no item disturbed, no book out of place; my eyes looked down as I turned to sweep myself back into the kitchen, then, I noticed it. Under the rug near the patch still stained form blood there appeared to be so me form of bump. I tiny bump, not abnormally big, but not abnormally small, lying there beneath the rug. In my study I moved closer in my curiosity, knife forward, to ready to strike if there need be reason a for such a the blow. It remained still and quiet, not a movement nor a quiver did it seem. I crouched down close to it, just inches away; I stretched my weapon forward and poked it with just the tip, just the tip, nothing more, nothing less. It jumped towards me in furry, I stumbled backwards in my immediate horror, landing on my back; it came closer, faster, anger presented in its speed. I kicked my legs back attempting to move away, but it only gained ground towards me; nearly scraping my leg. I screamed as my dear friend hysteria excitedly rushed back into my being; I rolled away quickly but it only drew came closer, faster, faster, faster then a freight train, faster, as it bumped my leg. My screeching grew more uncontrolled and frantic as I forced myself to jump to my feet, stumbling at the lack of balance my bound had caused me; I turned around to strike it down, but noticed my only source of protection lying on the ground. I screamed again, louder, my heart pounding faster, by breathing reaching hyperventilation as my mind was destroyed with hysteric devastation. I stumbled again when it began to near again, I turned around looking for some object that would defend against this demon torturing me with its quickness. The chair I thought, “The chair!” I screamed out loud in victorious realization, I whirled around and sprinted towards my destination, and my tormentor raced behind me searching for it’s pensions; I grabbed the arms of my chair, for this devil was unaware of his demise closely drawing near. “Die!” I screamed as I began to swing my seat over my head... Silence. The bump fell dead; not a movement, not a sound, not the slightest stir or twitch, just peace; as if my words had caused this unknown terror to suddenly fall dead. I slowly lowered the chair, placing it on it’s side. I slowly stepped full- circle around the abnormality, in the pure hopes I would not disturb it’s slumber, causing it yet again spring to life. I began so sweat from anticipation as I reached my knife, my shaky hands reached down, barely touching the hilt. I scraped my fingers against the smooth wood until the knife drew close enough to my hand for me to able to firmly grasp it. Picking it up I backed away slowly to the edge of the rug, making sure my eyes remained where the sly demon lay asleep taunting me, torturing me with anticipation and anxiety at it’s stillness... I reached the end of the rug, eyes still fixed on whatever lay under the rug... With knife still in hand I reached my finger tips under the rug, praying to the lord, pleading for protection as I began to lift the rug to reveal whatever horror lay underneath. My body began to shake as it’s form came into view, my prayers became more panicked and hastened; I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes, ripping the rug from the ground and automatically pouncing back, holding the stained razor outwards to my chest, ready to strike; but my eyes filled with whimsical horror at what I saw. A hand. A pale, dainty, white left hand from the wrist down, with a silver- jewel encrusted band encircling the ring finger. It balanced there on nothing but the very tips of it’s ring, index and middle fingers; giving it the appearence of floating on thin air. It’s appendages were graceful and long, the skin so white you could see the soft blue of the veins below; it’s form so perfect and delicate the great sculptors of the Renaissance could only dream of sculpting something half it’s stature. There was all but one flaw: the flesh near the wrist was jagged and torn, and stained deep red; as if it had been... severed. “Oh my God,” I let out in a soft cry as the knife fell from my hand, hitting the ground and though it was silent, a sound rang out that seemed to last for hours; then I fell in to a sprint. A sprint one can only compare to as demon trying to escape the judging gaze of the lord, the same sprint I fell into when I saw my beloved Victoria slain on the floor. Every second felt like an eternity before I finally reached the detached hand, I scooped it up in mine and marveled at how as it reacted at my touch; relaxing, running it’s smooth finger down the lengths of my arms it could reach. The skin was soft as silk and brought back the warmth of a memory lost so long ago; I teared up as I brought it close to my face to study the ring, the ring that symbolized my undying love for my dear Victoria, it lay untouched on the the left finger. The rubies still lay intact, the diamonds still polished, the silver still stainless and the strength of our love still undefeated. I pursed my lips and leaned forward and kissed the top the ring, in retort one finger softly glided down my lips chin, I smiled. The hand relaxed and I flipped it over to study the palm... My jaw fell and tears began to flow down my face as I read the note that was carved into the tissue:
“My dear, nothing will ever tare our love apart”
- Victoria
I paused trying to recollect my thoughts, I stared at the hand, at the scars that healed mine; I grabbed it, lacing the fingers between mine as euphoria replaced sorrow. My eyes wandered to my journalism notepad for the paper that laid on the small side table next to where my chair use to be. I slowly walked over, emotions and thoughts I do not have a name for racing through my head, but for the first time in a long time, they were not terrifying in nature. I knelt down in front of the table and with one hand grabbed the notepad and flipped it to a new page as set it back down. I picked up a pen, and with Victoria’s beautiful hand reunited in mine at last, I began to write.
No comments:
Post a Comment