January 21, 2014

  • Cross My Heart

    Watering the bushes in the height of the warm afternoon was like dropping water on to a hot skillet.  If he wanted his plants to absorb the water, he would have gotten up earlier so the water had time to sink into the cool ground before burning off in the blistering air.  He drizzled the water on his bushes hoping his last minute rescue would be enough to keep them alive for a few more days.  But just as he had neglected the greenery in the morning, he lost focus on it again.  Her heels clicked as she strode up the sidewalk.  What a treat she was, bringing that sweet piece of ass back to him so soon.  Dressed head to toe in black: black jeans, a black wife beater tank and those fuck-me-heels he had complimented her on last night.

    He flashed a good morning smile at her, letting her see the twinkle in his eyes.  If he played his cards right, those heels would be the only thing she was wearing once he got her inside.  She stared at him; face blank, eyes set on his.  Determination clear on her face, he smiled at the thought of the fight she would give him again.  He dropped the hose and started toward her with his arms spread in an offer of a hug.  It happened so fast, he didn’t even see her move.  She pulled a gun from her back and pointed it directly at his head just a few inches away.  He had nearly walked straight into the barrel.  He ducked impulsively and threw his hands up in front of his face.  She ordered him down and he dropped to his knees.  He tried to speak, but she shook her head and he stopped.

    The heat radiating from the road drew waves in the distant street.  Sweat beaded on his head as he stared into honey brown of her eyes.  They looked darker today than they did yesterday.  He wondered what had set her off.  Tight dark curls framed her face, nearly hiding the high cheekbones.  He couldn’t help but think of those soft lips as he had pushed his dick into her warm wet mouth.   His pants tightened as he relived the moment the evening before when he had gotten exactly what he wanted.   She needed a little convincing before she would accept how good it felt to have him in her mouth, but eventually she came around and he made her love every drop that he gave.

    The sound of the click broke his distracted train of thought as he tried to focus his sight on the cold steel pressed into his forehead.  A chill slid down his spine and sent him shivering.  The faint smell of oil and gunpowder filled his nostrils as she pushed the barrel harder into his head.  Her hand was steady, firm, and her lips turned down in a snarl.  But she remained silent.  He had never seen this side of her.  It wasn’t just the homicidal maniac psychopath look of the bitch holding this gun, but until today, until two minutes ago, he had only seen her frown once.   There was no sign of her constant cheerful demeanor or light hearted attitude.  The giggle always playing at the end of her words was replaced by whispered growl just under sizzle of the summer heat wave. The cold that chilled him was her.  The cold death stare froze his tongue to the inside of his mouth.  He wanted to plead for his life.

    A bright green hose snaked passed his legs.  The water ran into the warm emerald grass, pooled near the sidewalk, and finally ran over the curb.  The mini river flowed slowly down the street and disappeared down the drain just past the property line of the house.  Silence was pierced by ringing and the water went red.  A red mist clung to the barrel and her fingers as she stood with the gun held in front of her.  The ice filling her veins held her feet to the ground.  She blinked, staring down at his lifeless body.   The warmth of the day hit her suddenly and she looked around.  It was too hot to play outside. All of the potential witnesses were busy enjoying their air conditioning and indoor activities.  She holstered her gun and drew out a small pocket knife.  Standing over the body she made two swift slashes and watched as some of the blood trickled down to his neck and into the grass.  She turned and walked across the red river to her car.  She promised him he would not hurt her twice.  Cross his heart.

November 7, 2013

September 17, 2013

  • Mercy

    The figure stood draped in radiant, ivory folds of silk that fell to the ground. The face was soft and feminine and held two stark sapphire eyes. With a delicate hand, she reached down to the disheveled looking creature at her feet. Tattered rags clung to the flesh of a small child. Blood dripped from its wounds and polluted the pure white of the ground. Its terror filled eyes looked up in silence, begging and pleading. It was curled in a fetal position and rocking itself gently. It wished for its life. It wished for an escape from its torture. It wished for a release from its pain. The figure leaned down and offered the thing a hand. It whimpered and eyed the offer suspiciously. After several moments, the tiny hand covered in dirt and decay reached up. Maybe this time it would be saved. Maybe this time it would be safe.

    As the warmth of the pale hands enveloped the tiny frozen fingers, they both shivered at the exposure of opposite extremes. The tall figure felt a deep cold for the first time, and the child hungrily drew the heat in, grabbing the source with both hands. In that desperate grasp, a rush of emotion overtook the woman, and that perfect posture bowed in submission to the experience. She wrapped her arms around the dirty, pale faced, blue-eyed little girl. It started slow as soundless tears streamed down their cheeks. They clung to each other. The sobs grew deeper and louder. Their bodies shook as they mourned the loss of their innocence and ignorance. The broken child dared to pull away and meet the shimmering eyes of the gentle, delicate figure. As she fell into the gaze of the woman, the quiet slowed her shaking, and clarity overcame her - her pain was over. A heavy burden settled upon the woman as she leaned down and brought the girl back into her arms and cradled her as one would an infant. She began to hum a soothing tune, rocking the child back and forth and back and forth. The child's eyes grew heavy. Whispers of sleep escaped her lips.

    Silent stinging tears stole the woman's breath as she laid a gentle kiss on the child’s forehead. For a brief moment, the silence broke. The child's neck sat twisted in an unnatural fashion and her head hung as limp as the rest of her tiny body. The warmth seeped from her skin, yet the look on her face was peaceful. The woman laid the body on the white ground and watched as it faded from sight. She closed her eyes, clasping on to the memory of the girl as tightly as the emotions clutching at her heart. With a tear stained face, sullied robes and cold, bloody hands, she stood up straight. The human stain would change her, but never again would she succumb.