Worms
It was so tiny, resting in my sweaty palms. It squirmed in my grasp like a tiny worm and drooled like an infant. Then, it began to lose its warmth. Just a little hint to you: Children's fingers don't stay warm forever.
In the corner was the child whose finger I chopped off. She was crying, rocking back and forth, clutching her hand that was soaked in blood. She was scared. She looked up at me. The fear was momentary. She smiled at me and held up her hand. Her pinky was but a nasty stub.
"More, please!" She croaked. I could tell she was still in pain. Tears flowed down her cheeks but I could not turn away. I pulled out my giant shears that hung from my back pocket and snipped. Plop. Her index finger dropped to the ground, followed by a crimson cascade. The girl whimpered softly and I tilted my head. I realized that she was giggling. Her soft eyes beckoned me as she lifted her bloodied hand once more. I snipped and snipped and snipped until all her fingers were off. The girl was laying on the ground, smeared in her blood. Smiling.
"I still have another haaaand." She yelled at me this time, practically grinning to both ears. It was my turn to be scared. The way she laughed after I backed away scared me more. The way she starting wailing when she followed me upstairs from the basement and onto the asphalt road scared me the most. Pale moonlight shined on us both. The girl's little teeth glistened in that wide smile of hers as she lifted her other hand that was full of short fingers. She was tracing circles along the road with her stub for a hand. So I walked closer. I kneeled down and got so close to the girl, that I felt her breathing down my throat. And I snipped. But this time, her head went tumbling. It tumbled down the road, leaving a trail of blood. But still, that smug smile of hers with her tiny teeth and those big eyes was chiseled into my mind like how a sculptor chisels marble. And in my basement were her five little fingers that looked like squirming pale worms, drooling on the floorboards beneath my living room. And on the road was the girl's corpse, left to rot and to be forgotten until her head comes tumbling back and her worm-like fingers come squirming to reconstruct the girl into her old lively self. Hopefully, she wouldn't end up in my basement once again so I could snip and snip until her blood floods the streets and swallows the world whole in a river of the little girl's blood.
He Returned at Night
A slow ticktock echoed in the dark void of the room. The only source of light came from outside where several lampposts stood, flickering a pale golden hue through glass lanterns. I stared outside the window from the chair on which I sat. Nary a star in the sky and the lone moon peeked from dark clouds, as if it were a glowing silver medallion pinned on a dark blue night, hiding behind grey curtains that shielded its beauty from the world. The harrowing, vast sky looked very fit to collapse down on top of me, smashing me and my house into millions of pieces, killing me instantly.
Lightning struck and crackling thunder sounded, breaking the eerie silence that hung like a chandelier in the dark. More lightning flashed from the clouds. The blinding white gigawatts of violence were unleashed, madly contrasting against that black background we called the sky. A slight drizzle began to leak from above. Only a mere, discreet tapping. Then the rain started to pound harder. It was the cry of the skies, as if the heavens were being torn apart violently, seeking refuge on Earth to show its sorrow. I saw my reflection in the window. Like two pools of mud, my eyes stared back into the pallid face of a stranger. A stranger I greatly despised. I felt cold. A shiver ran up my spine as I saw another reflection in the window. Tears stung my eyes. He was here.
He inched closer, through what I saw in the window. His face was concealed behind a silk veil. All he wore was black. The clothes were covering a scrawny man. His name was Death. Was this how Death really was? Death paced near me, standing by my right, holding the top of my chair. I felt the tears roll down my cheeks, stinging raw flesh as they slid and dripped onto my pants. Death cleared his throat and brought out a single butcher knife. The blade glimmered in the sharp flash of lightning. I squeezed my eyes shut, allowing tears to freely stream my face once more. The terror made my blood rush and burn against the walls of my veins. Adrenaline filled my system, until I couldn't stand it anymore. But before I could muster the breath to bawl out, a searing pain burned in my upper arm. I looked down, my body instantly frozen. Death's metal butcher knife sliced through my skin with little effort and dug straight in, almost crushing my bone completely. I cried out in pain, the air rolling off my tongue endlessly. A searing burn flared up my arm, consuming me in torment and making my mind go into a state of pure blankness. Death jerked the knife in a bit further before yanking it out. My shirt was completely obscured in a crimson blush. My vision blurred as more tears lined the bottom of my pale eyelids. I felt the cold, hard marble flooring underneath me as I fell in a heap, slamming into the ground. My pain intensified harshly upon impact. I slowly drew my other hand onto my right shoulder, feeling the deep gash that lined across my upper arm, which was obviously soaked in my dark blood. I was sobbing now, my body quaking in fear and agony and shock and confusion. I glared up at Death. I couldn't see his eyes but I bet they were happy eyes. He's done with me now.
"Who do you think I am?" Said the man cloaked in black robes, his voice dragging almost slightly.
"You are here to bring me down, to torture me, to crush me, to humiliate me, to kill me," I managed to whisper hoarsely, coughing and clutching my injury tighter, adding more of a nauseous pain into my body. "You're Death." Death simply cackled loudly, louder than the thunder and rain put together.
"So, you don't recognize me," Death laughed with a hearty sigh, "I'm your friend."
"Friend? How could a friend do this to me?" I questioned. Death kicked me in the wound he gave me. I screeched in pain, my eyesight blurring spontaneously. I wanted it to end right now.
"What do you want from me?" I ask Death with eyes full of fear and salty tears.
"Do I not seem familiar?" Said Death in his menacing voice. Thunder screamed from the sky. Death's hand steadily gripped the bottom of his veil and lifted it up slowly. I felt my mouth gape at the sight.
"G-Geoffrey?" I stuttered hesitantly. "Didn't you disappear four years ago?"
"I sure did," Geoffrey bent down, his breath smelled like liquor and tobacco. "But I'm back now." Geoffrey licked his lips evilly, brushing his finger along the sharp end of his butcher knife that was tainted in my own blood. Once he got up, he swung the knife back, only to swing in back down at my arm again. This time, the pain was even worse. The knife thrashed through my bone completely, sawing away at the bundle of nerves under my arm. My fingers were minced as well, soaring off under the chair which I once sat. My screams were hindered to my ears by an annoying buzz, which grew louder and louder every second. Blood scurried across my marble floor. Geoffrey was all covered in my sheer, red blood, soaking his clothing as well as mine. Geoffrey hacked at my arm again, to remove the dangling nerves and bloody tissue that hung limply to the side. I couldn't bear the pain that surged my body all over. Then Geoffrey picked my arm up, shoving it up my face, as if taunting me for having only one arm when he had both, like a joke. He threw it on the ground, splattering blood on the window. I was shaking violently now, my face probably as pale as snow. My vision was getting splotchy, distorted.
"Why?" I winced. That sole word drove mountains of pain into my body. "Why are you doi--?" I screamed from the pain before I even finished my sentence, clutching my phantom arm with a finger-less hand.
"You forced me to leave! You not paying back your loans was drowing me in debt! This house that I bought with my own money to keep you under a roof cost an arm and a leg! Now it's time to pay the price." Geoffrey threw his head back and commenced a fit of evil cackles. He swung his knife back once more, with ease and a hint of grace. Before the metal blade sliced through the skin, flesh and the thick muscle in my leg, bright lightning flashed against Geoffrey's face and displayed a gruesome smile. I couldn't exactly feel the pain he thought he was putting me through. My eyes peeked at the masterpiece he was creating. A clump of flesh and blood stuck out from the small stump that I would eventually have to live with for the rest of my life. Then Geoffrey start smashing against my femur. The pain was like no other. Geoffrey had trouble hacking away at the femur - the knife occasionally slipped from his bloody grasp. The bone was slowly cracking and breaking off but it would not give in. I yelled for him to stop but these were the screams of pain that gave him strength to torture me even more. The grin on his face did not go away nor diminish. Then the bone gave in and I screamed for my life. My finger-less hand shot up and pain pierced my phantom arm. However, my leg was not completely off. Geoffrey sliced through the softer, fleshier meat and tore off my leg with his hands. I felt warm blood gush out the stump in my leg. Pain still stabbed me all throughout my body.
Lightning struck through the clouds like skeletal fingers coming down from the heavens to stroke the Earth. My vision quickly began to fade into a void of pure black. Geoffrey was only staring down at me, shaking his head in disappointment in me. He came back for me to repay him with my life? Nonsense. This was retribution, payback, revenge... And revenge is not sweet, but painful and bloody...
He Returned at Night
A slow ticktock echoed in the dark void of the room. The only source of light came from outside where several lampposts stood, flickering a pale golden hue through glass lanterns. I stared outside the window from the chair on which I sat. Nary a star in the sky and the lone moon peeked from dark clouds, as if it were a glowing silver medallion pinned on a dark blue night, hiding behind grey curtains that shielded its beauty from the world. The harrowing, vast sky looked very fit to collapse down on top of me, smashing me and my house into millions of pieces, killing me instantly.
Lightning struck and crackling thunder sounded, breaking the eerie silence that hung like a chandelier in the dark. More lightning flashed from the clouds. The blinding white gigawatts of violence were unleashed, madly contrasting against that black background we called the sky. A slight drizzle began to leak from above. Only a mere, discreet tapping. Then the rain started to pound harder. It was the cry of the skies, as if the heavens were being torn apart violently, seeking refuge on Earth to show its sorrow. I saw my reflection in the window. Like two pools of mud, my eyes stared back into the pallid face of a stranger. A stranger I greatly despised. I felt cold. A shiver ran up my spine as I saw another reflection in the window. Tears stung my eyes. He was here.
He inched closer, through what I saw in the window. His face was concealed behind a silk veil. All he wore was black. The clothes were covering a scrawny man. His name was Death. Was this how Death really was? Death paced near me, standing by my right, holding the top of my chair. I felt the tears roll down my cheeks, stinging raw flesh as they slid and dripped onto my pants. Death cleared his throat and brought out a single butcher knife. The blade glimmered in the sharp flash of lightning. I squeezed my eyes shut, allowing tears to freely stream my face once more. The terror made my blood rush and burn against the walls of my veins. Adrenaline filled my system, until I couldn't stand it anymore. But before I could muster the breath to bawl out, a searing pain burned in my upper arm. I looked down, my body instantly frozen. Death's metal butcher knife sliced through my skin with little effort and dug straight in, almost crushing my bone completely. I cried out in pain, the air rolling off my tongue endlessly. A searing burn flared up my arm, consuming me in torment and making my mind go into a state of pure blankness. Death jerked the knife in a bit further before yanking it out. My shirt was completely obscured in a crimson blush. My vision blurred as more tears lined the bottom of my pale eyelids. I felt the cold, hard marble flooring underneath me as I fell in a heap, slamming into the ground. My pain intensified harshly upon impact. I slowly drew my other hand onto my right shoulder, feeling the deep gash that lined across my upper arm, which was obviously soaked in my dark blood. I was sobbing now, my body quaking in fear and agony and shock and confusion. I glared up at Death. I couldn't see his eyes but I bet they were happy eyes. He's done with me now.
"Who do you think I am?" Said the man cloaked in black robes, his voice dragging almost slightly.
"You are here to bring me down, to torture me, to crush me, to humiliate me, to kill me," I managed to whisper hoarsely, coughing and clutching my injury tighter, adding more of a nauseous pain into my body. "You're Death." Death simply cackled loudly, louder than the thunder and rain put together.
"So, you don't recognize me," Death laughed with a hearty sigh, "I'm your friend."
"Friend? How could a friend do this to me?" I questioned. Death kicked me in the wound he gave me. I screeched in pain, my eyesight blurring spontaneously. I wanted it to end right now.
"What do you want from me?" I ask Death with eyes full of fear and salty tears.
"Do I not seem familiar?" Said Death in his menacing voice. Thunder screamed from the sky. Death's hand steadily gripped the bottom of his veil and lifted it up slowly. I felt my mouth gape at the sight.
"G-Geoffrey?" I stuttered hesitantly. "Didn't you disappear four years ago?"
"I sure did," Geoffrey bent down, his breath smelled like liquor and tobacco. "But I'm back now." Geoffrey licked his lips evilly, brushing his finger along the sharp end of his butcher knife that was tainted in my own blood. Once he got up, he swung the knife back, only to swing in back down at my arm again. This time, the pain was even worse. The knife thrashed through my bone completely, sawing away at the bundle of nerves under my arm. My fingers were minced as well, soaring off under the chair which I once sat. My screams were hindered to my ears by an annoying buzz, which grew louder and louder every second. Blood scurried across my marble floor. Geoffrey was all covered in my sheer, red blood, soaking his clothing as well as mine. Geoffrey hacked at my arm again, to remove the dangling nerves and bloody tissue that hung limply to the side. I couldn't bear the pain that surged my body all over. Then Geoffrey picked my arm up, shoving it up my face, as if taunting me for having only one arm when he had both, like a joke. He threw it on the ground, splattering blood on the window. I was shaking violently now, my face probably as pale as snow. My vision was getting splotchy, distorted.
"Why?" I winced. That sole word drove mountains of pain into my body. "Why are you doi--?" I screamed from the pain before I even finished my sentence, clutching my phantom arm with a finger-less hand.
"You forced me to leave! You not paying back your loans was drowing me in debt! This house that I bought with my own money to keep you under a roof cost an arm and a leg! Now it's time to pay the price." Geoffrey threw his head back and commenced a fit of evil cackles. He swung his knife back once more, with ease and a hint of grace. Before the metal blade sliced through the skin, flesh and the thick muscle in my leg, bright lightning flashed against Geoffrey's face and displayed a gruesome smile. I couldn't exactly feel the pain he thought he was putting me through. My eyes peeked at the masterpiece he was creating. A clump of flesh and blood stuck out from the small stump that I would eventually have to live with for the rest of my life. Then Geoffrey start smashing against my femur. The pain was like no other. Geoffrey had trouble hacking away at the femur - the knife occasionally slipped from his bloody grasp. The bone was slowly cracking and breaking off but it would not give in. I yelled for him to stop but these were the screams of pain that gave him strength to torture me even more. The grin on his face did not go away nor diminish. Then the bone gave in and I screamed for my life. My finger-less hand shot up and pain pierced my phantom arm. However, my leg was not completely off. Geoffrey sliced through the softer, fleshier meat and tore off my leg with his hands. I felt warm blood gush out the stump in my leg. Pain still stabbed me all throughout my body.
Lightning struck through the clouds like skeletal fingers coming down from the heavens to stroke the Earth. My vision quickly began to fade into a void of pure black. Geoffrey was only staring down at me, shaking his head in disappointment in me. He came back for me to repay him with my life? Nonsense. This was retribution, payback, revenge... And revenge is not sweet, but painful and bloody...
Silk
"Her eyes finally opened and her mouth hung open with pure want, emitting a sound of moisture and revealing thin strings of saliva that went from the roof of her mouth to her pink, slender tongue. She panted. Her cavernous eyes, although gummed with sleep and baring threads of scarlet around her deep blue irises, carried a lustful glare. Her stubby fingers traced a lemniscate along my spine. I got chills from her cold fingers. She sensed this and purred lightly, bringing her fingers to my own lips from behind me and wet them with my tongue. She had been standing behind me but steadily brought herself to bend down between my legs, where I was seated atop my work desk. She swayed her hips in the most sexy and most erotic way, almost to the point of true insanity." ...
He felt his inner beast rising into his throat, an aggressive animal that made his body tremble and quake with a palsied fever. Rather than come out of his mouth, the beast found itself between his legs, rising, hardening, stretching, all on its own. It was unbearable. He was erect. He licked his lips feverishly and hopped off the desk, cornering the woman and gripped her round, firm breasts. He felt her nipples peek from their lazy slumber between his fingers and he squeezed even more vehemently. Even over the silky fabric did his tongue impatiently caress those sweet nipples of hers. His hungry tongue slid up and down over her laced dress. He occasionally landed a kiss on her breasts. Her moans seemed loud in his ears when in fact they were tender whispers. He wanted screams. So, he bit. And he bit quite hard until a maroon puddle began to form on the woman's new black silky dress. She yelled and tried to shove him away but her pleads only told him he was authorized for more. This woman had no power whatsoever over the sadistic man. He tore off her nipple with his teeth but instead of taking it with him, it was trapped behind the silk fabric and fell down her dress. Instead of lactating, this woman was to feed blood to her child, the man thought happily.
The young woman's scream subdued and she was shuddering in fear and pain. But the man was so vigorously turned on! The beast had found its place between this man's legs and it planned to stay for a while. The man pulled the woman onto the desk to that she sat in his place, her freshly-shaven legs dangling over the table. The man stood and heaved his pelvis between the woman's legs. He rubbed the beast calmly yet seemed to gain pace with every second. The girl soon forgot her pain and commenced her moaning. She was used to the pain he often caused, anyway.
The man enjoyed humping that wane skin on her inner thighs and the fabric between the woman's legs, yes he did, so the man continued to soothe the beast that pounded against the woman's pleasure spot until she was screaming for more. Her pain was proven almost nonexistent as soon as her body began to spasm. She was having an orgasm and the man knew by the way her body rocked with might, the way her eyes rolled back into her head, the way her shoulders tensed. The beast between the man's legs was calmed even through the tough fabric of the man's jeans right after the woman's release. An intense shooting outflow of pleasure, warming him whole and forming a neat patch of sticky ooze on his crotch area, through his undergarments and all. He smiled as he looked down at the wet stain. Both the man and the young woman's forehead were shining with perspiration.
Without warning, the young woman's hand whipped across the man's face. He was more stunned that anything. Had he not pleasured her sufficiently? These questions rang in the mind of the man. His beast had been quieted and he was now limp and slightly sore-- He was not in the right condition to be pleasuring anyone without the help of his beast. His mouth deemed useless for he was speechless, and his mouth was still with the awkward, lingering taste of blood. The woman's hands lifted once more but not to strike the man. Instead, she put her hands on his neck and slowly unbuttoned his collar. A quick release of bottled angry, yes. But... Had she not known that he had already released? The patch of seminal fluids was in plain view! He looked at her, right into her bloodshot eyes. Her eyes seemed to flicker between his pants and his collar but he wasn't very sure. But it was then that he realized that she knew. She knew he was done for by the snicker that was released when she parted her lips...
His eyes also flickered around for a second, and rage flared in them as quick as a bullet. He pulled her off the desk violently, heaved the young woman aside and she toppled over, falling on the ground with a delicate but loud thud. The man stood over her, appearing as if he was going to kill her, yet the woman couldn't move away to save her life. She sobbed loudly then quieter and quieter, afraid that something might turn bad if she cried. His fists knocked against her ashen face a couple times. His own face was a mad red, his eyes popped out of his skull, his neck strained, his words were spat out with almost the same ferocity and rapidity of machine gun fire... Without wiping the dangling spit from his lip, he bent closer to the young woman on the ground, and perfectly composed just four words: "I fucking hate you." She screamed as the man began to kick her. As her side split open and poured out dark liquid, he felt himself chuckling. The young girl was slowly slipping away from this life already so he quickly stopped. However, the man's eyes didn't widen in realization, they unhurriedly formed into unnerving slits as he directed his lethal glare at the girl. As if dying by his stare, her head flopped to her side and her breathing came no more. Her heart stopped in mid-beat as her finger twitched. Blood dripped in a thick mound from her side and also from her bare, bitten breast beneath all the dark silk of her dress.
Doorbell
I handed him flowers on the day of our anniversary, in hopes that it'd smooth out all wrinkles and wash out all stains that had risen on the fabric of our relationship along the years. They were beautiful chrysanthemums. They smelled wonderful, those ornamental flowers, and I couldn't wait to put them in a vase.
I tapped my knuckles on his wooden door and awaited the shriek of the doors hinges that were so familiar to me. I smiled briskly in silence. When no one responded to my knocking, I rang the doorbell. I had never touched the button before, and the way the sound of the bell seemed to echo in the house, seep out of the door, and then linger in my mind scared me.
As these thoughts ran in my mind, the door hinges yelled for grease and I was finally calmed. My boyfriend, Waylon, stood at the door with nothing but a robe on. His eyes were grim and hung ridiculously low with sleep. His mouth was slightly ajar and most likely stunk with stale morning-breath.
"Iris," he murmured my name tiredly, "Do you know what time is it? What do you want?"
I smiled briefly then held the flowers up to my face, snickering with glee, "I bought you some chrysanthemums!"
"I hate flowers."
"What? Why? They're so pretty!" My grin faded as quickly as the sky at twilight.
"Why?!" Waylon crossed his arms smugly. "Well, flowers are only as sweet as the soil and dirt that nurtured them! And soil ain't too pleasant!" I heard him snicker nastily under his breath. Then just to make matters worse, I heard a voice come from inside the house. Waylon's tired face changed into an expression of panic and fear. A figure appeared from the darkness within his house.
"Waylon, darling, come back inside..." A familiar voice of a woman sang sweetly into Waylon's ears. His face was still frozen and his eyes were stuck on me. I still couldn't see her. I attempted to peer in, but Waylon moved briskly in the way.
"Who's there, dear?" The woman scoffed with curious anger, pushing Waylon from the doorstep. I blinked in trepidation when I saw her face finally emerge from inside. Her wrinkled eyes widened when she saw my face contort into a glare of utter disgust. I could hear the shrill of the doorbell in my ears again. I snapped out of my stupor, ignoring the rising rings in my head, and found the guts to say something.
"M-Mother?!"
Wanderlust
I sailed atop my blank, empty notebook,
On a globetrotting journey that I undertook.
My pen bled and became the deep, treading sea
As I pondered and wondered what I ought to be.
I was the scribe of my sprouting, sick story,
Eagerly dotting, crossing, and wording in glory.
Bobbing along the inked savage sea,
I pondered and wondered what I ought to see.
The shallow sea settled and steadily subdued.
My notebook was full and all the lines were blued.
An idea for a story had written itself just for me,
Yet I still wonder and ponder what I ought to be.