my dearest love, i will perform for you
everything about you is pure magic
i am in love with the way your legs move
and i am in love with your teeth
your heart is beautiful and, my god, your smile makes me weak
i am in love with you and everything you are
if you had my baby, i would worship the altar that is your hips
i will sew you back together and i will kiss your wounds
i am in love with you
i have said it many times but i will say it again
i am in love with you
you fell in love with me when i first picked up my violin
you came apart in front of me when i drew that bow across the strings
the music was made by me but it was made for you
so now, your body laid across my bed, i will create music for you
i said i love your legs, and your heart
so i will cut the tendons and muscles out of each and create a violin
your teeth will hold the string in place
and your hip bones will be my bow
that way when our child asks where mommy is
i will say, right here!
and play your favorite song, so you too can make the music
Slave to the Sun
Celeste didn't know what came more naturally to her: breathing or loving Finn Abott.
While sitting at the cafe he worked at one day, she asked him if he remembered the first time they spoke, the first time he saw her.
“I don’t know. It feels like you’ve always been there, following me around.”
Celeste flashed a smile. Finn’s glance did not fall to her lips. No, he continued to stare out the window.
Finn’s eyes changed in the sunlight. Not for the first time, Celeste wondered if Finn had brokered a cosmic deal with the sun, whose light only seemed to make him more beautiful. The sun gifted Finn with endearing freckles, faint enough to make you lean closer and see if they were really there. Usually the color of coffee, his eyes had tiny flecks of gold and green that shone brighter in sunlight. Celeste was put on Earth to gaze into those eyes. Or, more accurately, to watch those eyes look anywhere but at her.
“Do you think I’ll go bald someday?” Finn was messing with his hair in the window's reflection. “My dad was bald by thirty.”
“You’re nothing like your dad.”
“I know, but I still have his DNA.”
“Do you miss him?” Finn's dad had walked out on his family last year.
“No. I feel like I should, but life is just easier without him.”
“You don’t have to miss him. You’re better off without him.”
Finn ignored her. “You start school tomorrow, right?”
“Right.” Celeste dreaded completing her senior year alone, but Finn had dropped out to get a job after his dad left.
“Can you stay out late tonight?”
Celeste's heartbeat quickened. They had always had daytime friendship. Celeste would join Finn for his morning and afternoon shifts, but he would always take her home before the sun set. She had never seen how he looked in the moonlight. She imagined dreamy light making his smooth skin glow the color of lilies in winter. If Celeste loved Finn in the sunlight, she would worship him in the moonlight.
Finn shrugged. “Just thought we could watch a movie in my garage or something.”
He was going to make a move tonight. Celeste was sure of it.
That night, Celeste and Finn were seated on the old couch in Finn's stuffy garage.
With sweaty palms, Celeste asked, “What are watching?”
“I actually wanted to talk to you about something.” Finn was studying his knuckles. With a jolt, Celeste realized he was nervous.
He kept staring at his hands. Celeste decided to make it easier on him. Before she could second guess herself, she pulled off her top, and Finn’s gaze quickly abandoned his hands in favor of her breasts.
For the first time, Finn’s attention was entirely on her.
Until it wasn’t.
“What are you doing!”
Celeste scrambled for her shirt.
“You don’t know how to say you love me, so I’m helping you find the words!” Celeste didn't like feeling embarrassed. She didn’t like it at all.
“I was just gonna ask you if I should go back to school, not confess my love!"
“What?” Her voice was too soft, screaming vulnerability in a way Celeste despised.
Finn had the nerve to look sorry for Celeste. She couldn’t breathe. She started for the door. “I need some fresh air.”
Night had fallen as Celeste escaped Finn’s stifling garage. She barely made it across the Abott’s front yard before she collapsed against the garden shed in tears, knocking over a rake in the process.
Minutes later she heard the approach of Finn’s footsteps. “Let me drive you home, Cel.”
“Don’t call me Cel,” Celeste mumbled.
“I said, don’t call me Cel.” Celeste dared to look up at Finn’s face. The moment she saw him in the moonlight, she was speechless.
If the sunlight brought out the best in Finn, the moonlight brought out the worst. His eyes appeared sunken, with dark shadows underneath them. His skin did not glow the color of lilies. Instead, he looked as pale as a corpse.
Celeste realized then what he reminded her of. “You look like your dad.”
“Come on, Cel, you’re just saying things to hurt my feelings. Let’s go-”
“No,” Celeste interrupted. “You look like your dad the night I killed him.”
“Celeste, you don’t need to come up with crazy stories to get my attention. My dad’s alive.”
“How do you know? Because he left you a letter when he left? ‘Dear Finn, I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better father to you. Take care of your mom.’ Do you think he gave a shit about you or your mom, Finn? No. I wrote that letter so you would have something left of him.” Celeste stood, her eyes now dry.
Finn tried to back away, but Celeste grabbed his wrist. “I did you a favor! You said it yourself! Life is easier without him. I made your life better.”
“Let go of me,” Finn sobbed. He tried to pull away, but Celeste was stronger than he knew. Celeste was so much more than what Finn Abott thought of her.
“We would’ve been great,” Celeste whispered as she caressed Finn’s cheek. The tears in his eyes glistened, showing those green and gold flecks she loved so much. “You really do have the most beautiful eyes.”
With lightning speed, Celeste grabbed the rake she had knocked over, and hit Finn, hard, in the head.
Hours later, after Celeste had stuffed Finn’s body into the backseat of his truck and driven to the middle of the desert, where no one would find him for weeks, she waited for sunrise. Celeste wanted her last memory of Finn to be a fond one. She wanted to see those few, faint freckles.
When morning hit, Celeste knelt and traced the lines of Finn’s cold face. She gently closed his eyes, those wonderful eyes that never bothered to look at her, so they’d never look at anyone ever again.
I know this is kind of a cop-out, but I didn't make the word count and couldn't bring myself to chop it much shorter. Here is a link to the full story.
Thank you for the challenge, this isn't usually my genre!
Dear Nova Light
Hello my Love sorry for not writing sooner but I ran out of paper and had to wait three weeks for more. I have missed you so sensed you have moved away but at least we can still write.
From yours truly
Oh dear me I hope she isn’t mad.
Dear Noah Black
Hello, Sweety, I’m so glad that you can write back again. But I have something to tell you, I'M COMING BACK HOME THIS WEEK! I can wait to see you but see you when I get there
As I read this letter I couldn't help but jump around in joy when I heard she was coming back home. I can't wait to see her. As I was jumping in joy I heard a knock on the door “ Who might that be ''. I thought as I started walking over to the door. Then I heard it open and close I panicked who could it be a robber? A killer? it can’t be my family. They never come here. But then I saw Nova come around the corner but she looked different her eyes were... buttons “ Noah I have missed you dearly how are you”. “ good” I said “Great now let’s go color” she said cheerfully as she started to drag me to my art room. I started to giggle at her silliness then I felt my face hit the cold floor “OOOOOOWWWWWW”! I yelled. I looked up at Nova. She looked like she was about to cry, then she started apologizing and giving me hugs and kisse, after a while I started to laugh and smile. I got up and looked at Nova, she looked like she had seen me die.
“ Nova”? I whispered then she ran to the spare room I had. I started to walk to the spare room and heard a strange noise. It sounded like skin being sewed together, as I walked into the spare room there Nova was sewing fabric into her skin. “NOVA”! I yelled as I ran over to her and grabbed the needle she was using to sew the fabric into her skin. She looked at me in shoke and I looked back at her with the same shocked expression. This kept happening. She would stay in a room, I would find her sewing fabric into her skin, it was a constant loop.
After two weeks of this loop I heard the doorbell, I opened the door and saw two cops “ Are you Noah Black”? The first officer asked “ Yes, Do you need something”? I asked, really confused, what did I do? “ Sir, your girlfriend was found dead” The second officer said. Dead no she couldn't be she was here with me “ Show me proof”! I raised my voice slightly irritated, then the first cop pulled a photo of Nova. She had buttons sewed into her eyes and tears rolled down her cheeks with blood, as I looked at her legs and arms she had fabric sewed into her skin but yet it was Nova. After talking to the cops for a while I turned to ghost Nova. She looked sad then I hugged her “ It's time to go where you belong” then I felt a sharp pain in my back. I fell to the floor as I looked up with tears in my eyes. I saw ghost Nova with a sledgehammer above her head and she said “ Goodbye Noah see you in the afterlife then everything turned black.
And that's the story on how I Noah black died.
When love turns gory...
It's no wonder John Milton named the capital of Hell "Pandæmonium" — I can see that now. I had planned meticulously over the past week on how to rid myself of her, it's like the universe knew it was coming. After the birth of Giovanni, she had started losing it. About a month after his birth, she started crying every day and sleeping less. She started to be possessive of Giovanni, too. A month or so after that, it was clear she was depressed. She was also angry. She just couldn't connect with Giovanni in the way she wanted to. I guess she had this whole ideal scenario envisioned where she and the baby were inseparable. Her fault, I guess. It hurt to see this loving and affectionate person become distant. But, it wasn't only her feelings that were changing either. As this went on, I lost love for her. Soon, I became infuriated with her. She kept the baby from me because, "He loves me, he's just reluctant to show it. Trust me." I would stand in silence, getting angry. It'd been over a week since I was able to spend time with my baby. She would notice my facial expression change and cry, "I'm serious, Philippe. He loves me!" Her insecurity was eating her up. One day, I went to go comfort her while she was having an episode when I saw her wrist. Multiple scars were lined across. I mentioned it would be good to see a doctor, as it became increasingly obvious she had a severe form of postpartum depression. Turns out, that was the most wrong thing I could've said because her episode became worse.
One day, after dinner, I asked if we could talk. She wasn't up to the idea, of course. I told her it would be quick and she reluctantly agreed. I told her how sorry I felt for her and how she didn't seem to be able to connect with Giovanni. "I don't need your pity," she said. "But he's my baby too," I said. I could see the tears start to well up in her eyes. "Don't cry," I pleaded, "I have a proposal. Take care of yourself. Go run a bath and relax. I think we still have some bath salts, which could be a nice touch. While you're in there, I can watch Giovanni. I know you don't like it, but it might just help you relax. You haven't done much of that since you became obsessed with the baby." She was fuming, but she saw the desperation in my eyes. "Okay."
She was already in the bath when I walked in. "I come for a kiss," I say. She tilted her head towards me and closed her eyes. Perfect, I thought. I took out a small razor blade I had picked up from the bathroom sink counter. I brought her head in closer, and with the blade, slit deeply and quickly across the side of her neck. "Phillipe!" she cried out in agony. I stepped away, but she leaned over the edge of the tub, letting the blood onto the floor.
Fuck. This is complete chaos. My personal pandæmonium, if you will. Nothing was supposed to go wrong. I gently move her head into the tub and let her blood infuse the water. I quickly go and open the cabinet under the sink and take out the bleach. I pour it into a bucket we have in there and I eyeball around a quarter cup. I add about 60-ish ounces and dip a spare cloth in there. Somehow, she had managed to let out a lot more blood than expected when she was leaning against the edge. I clean to the best of my abilities. After cleaning, I plop her arm on the edge, to make it seem more realistic. And then I remember. "Shit!" The razor blade. How did I forget? I took plastic bags from the cabinet and wrapped them around my hands. I moved her right arm and placed the blade in her right hand. If they ask, I'll say I used it to shave earlier. I switch out the old blade from my razor and set it aside to throw it away elsewhere. I clean up and get out of there. I shove the razor blade into the bags that I placed on my hand and shoved those into our regular trash. Suddenly, I hear my name. "Philippe!" It's her, but how is that possible? I killed her. "Philippe!" I close my eyes. I must be going insane, I think. "Philippe?"
I open my eyes, afraid of what I would see. It's her. What in the world? "Philippe, are you okay? You're the one who suggested this dinner." I must have been imagining the whole thing. I quickly snapped into reality, and responded, "You're right. I'm sorry. I lost my train of thought." She got up. "I said, I am going to take your advice." "What advice?" I questioned. "To take a bath and relax. Hopefully, it helps with Giovanni." I was confused. Did she seem open to the idea? No, it couldn't be. This is just a ruse to get closer and then suddenly take Gio away from me. I can't be falling for her tricks.
She walks upstairs and I could hear the bathwater start to run. I go place Giovanni in his crib, and tell him everything will be okay. "Daddy's here." I place his blanket over him and walk into the bathroom. She's already in the bath when I walk in. I make a stop at the sink, and pick up a razor blade. She doesn't notice it. "Philippe, didn't you say this was my relaxing time?" I did. "You're right." She gives me a look. "So," she says, "Why are you still here?" "I'm sorry, Eleanor." I walk closer to her. "So very sorry." I lean in for a kiss, and I bring her head in...
Ginny woke with a start.
She had been having the most bizzare dreams, and all of them ended the same: killing somebody.
She had woken a monster, a snake of some sorts, knowing it was wrong.
But she needed a way to get him, her true love.
He was famous in the wizarding world, having defeated the evil sorcerer Voldemort as a baby. And Ginny loved him. She loved everything about him. His green grass colored eyes, His flowing black hair, the scar on his forehead, shaped like a lightning bolt.
But he never noticed her. He was her brother's best friend, and he never talked to her.
So Ginny had admired from afar, always creating imaginary scenarios in her head that she knew would never happen. But lately, she had been creating worse scenarios.
She would go to the girls bathroom, whisper a hiss, and the sink would disappear. A passage would be there, and she would go down it, knowing to keep her eyes closed, for the beast could kill with a look. She would open a chamber door, whispering in the hiss again, not knowing what it meant herself, and the door would open. The beast would be there, waiting on her every beck and call. She would hiss at it, and it would follow her, slithering through the chamber doors. It would go through the passage and come out in the bathroom. It would go down the halls, finding its next victim. And every night it had found one.
But it had always been a friend of his, her true love's. This time it was Lavender Brown.
She got out of bed and sighed. Every night it was the same thing, and every morning, she would wake up to the news of a death in the castle.
The same one in her dream.
At midnight, I was at the log, just like Avery had asked. I was wearing makeup, something I really never did because Grandmother thought I was too young for it. She said she didn’t want me growing up and having children as young as she did. I also wore my favorite nightgown, a blue one, that was once my mother’s. Only when I got to the log, I didn’t see Avery. And I didn’t feel alone. “Hello?” I called out.
A voice spoke quietly, so quietly I couldn’t make out what direction it was coming from. “Clementine, I’ve missed you.”
“Is that Avery?”
The trees were like tall ghosts. They were haunting at night. It didn’t seem like a fairytale with a happy ending, the way this place did in daytime. Everything here was sort of haunting. “Don’t make a sound, okay?”
“What’s going on?”
Avery stepped out from behind a tree. “I want you to stay quiet.”
I noticed the reflection of the moon in the knife he was holding. His feet didn’t make a sound on the leaves. His father must have trained him to walk quietly on their hunts. “What are you going to do with that?” I think I would have panicked in that moment, but I trusted him too much.
“Clem,” He pouted, “Shut up.”
And before I could speak, he walked behind me and put one hand on my waist, and the knife up to my throat. “Please don’t hurt me.” I could feel the tears swell in my eyes.
“Clementine, you hurt me. Why do you go around trying to handle things you know nothing about? You can’t keep hurting me!”
“I did the right thing,” I choked.
“If you don’t be quiet, I’m going to have to kill you. You’re going to get me caught.”
I screamed as loud as I could. He didn’t slit my throat, but he stabbed me in the stomach. I never could figure out why he just didn’t kill me. It was like he knew I would survive. He ran off in the night and something caught my body that wasn’t him. It was white and glowing, and its presence was warm and familiar. “Who’s there?” I asked, though I could feel myself losing consciousness. I turned and saw its face as I was losing my vision.
Tilda smiled down at me. If this had happened to anyone else, I don’t think they would have known that it was her, but she and I, we had this sort of way when we were together. Like we were kindred spirits, I could feel her.
Jack had his strong suits. An old spirit in a young body is what I was told. I always wish I had known him before the accident. Before the anger, depression, and guilt of what was done set into his now stricken soul. I have heard the stories, they are all fascinating. Mostly, he seemed like a stand-up citizen. Beautiful blue eyes. Eyes you could lose a day or two looking at and gorgeous dark hair that fell over and shadowed them. But that was before. All I see now are dark reflections. No more losing yourself in anything but the fear of what anger would arise by a simple sentence. As his nurse, I had no choice, but to do my job and treat him as I would any other patient. He rarely spoke and when he did the room filled with sparks of what some might call just simple insanity. I have treated it for several months since then. Sometimes, I feel like he stares at me for far too long. Wanting to say or do something other than throwing a bedpan or yelling for more medication which he knows I cannot give him. When they assigned me the case, most of the others chuckled at me and shook their heads. "Good luck, my dear." They all told me, making me nervous. And upon meeting him, they were right. He had a vicious streak which I could not place at all. The accident was not his fault. A fluke, something we all hope never happens to us; however, it did...to him. Thankfully, his aim in anger was always very off. Thankfully. Today, he motioned for me. He rarely speaks, unless it is a violent request for something. I was hesitant. He asked me to fetch a wheelchair. He touched my hand in a way that was almost too gentle. Like we were more than just patient and nurse. And in the reflection, I felt something twinge in my heart, as it always does when I see him. Something that made me less fearful and more inquisitive. I conferred with the head nurse and she nodded, also with a look of slight confusion, but, nevertheless, granted his request. I assisted him in the chair and he spoke softly. I leaned forward slightly. Smelling his hospital soap as I neared his ear. He stiffened slightly, but I quickly explained that I could not hear his request. "Take me to the window." I nodded, then felt foolish. "Ok." I replied almost as softly as him. I rolled him near his room's window. I stood behind him, wondering exactly what, why or how long he would like to stay here. It was near time for sunset. I heard a deep sigh. I looked down at him, knowing the rush of feelings I have had for the past few months have been wrong in several ways. He started to speak then he stopped. For several minutes he sat and I stood. Right before the sun was almost all the way down he removed his protective glasses. I tried to suppress the small gasp since I had never seen him without them on. He touched my arm slightly, turning towards me. "I miss seeing the sunset."