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Old 06-29-2009, 05:06 AM
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Default Mary - 685 words


We’ve been married for twenty years now. Twenty and counting. It’s our anniversary, so I take the time to listen to whatever she has to say. I hang on every word, nod my head in agreement. It’s the least I can do.

She’s down to soft moans now thankfully. Her screams were horrible and I thought they’d never stop. It is a good thing we live a healthy mile away from the nearest neighbours for she had a healthy set of lungs on her.

I watch as her body trembles, convulses and then jets out another fountain of blood from the wound in her chest. It’s probably only from the nerves powering down the living plant. Muscles constricting, squeeze out pooled blood from inside her body cavities. Just Mary’s brains cells signing off.

Goodbye.

A pink bubble forces its way out from the recess of her left nostril. It expands until with a soft pop it allows the liquid trapped inside to drip to the tiled floor.

I want so badly to clean it up for I’m a bit of a neat freak, not obsessively so, but pretty close. I hold off because, you see, I don’t want to give her any signs of hope. I want her to feel exactly the same way I felt for these last twenty years. I want her to die feeling helplessness. I tidy up instead, just out of her line of sight until a sound draws my eyes back.

It’s just another moan escaping, another bubble bursting free, another drop spitting itself onto my once spotless floor. It can be only a matter of time, after all, how much more blood can she hold?

I wait her out, put the kettle on.

***

Mary hasn’t blinked for just over eight minutes now. I watch in amazement as a large blue-bottle fly lands on her nose, works its way down the bridge and then, after a few circles, disappears into her open mouth. I almost gag.

It doesn’t return.

I wait another five minutes for I need to be sure and always wanted to witness a moment of death.

"Goodbye, Mary." I whisper. She doesn't answer.

It is everything I hoped it could be.

***

Mary is slumped to her side now. Eyes which are dull and truly life-less for the first time regard me. I notice that there is only a slight difference in her awareness of me and yet I am surprised by even that. The wooden stake, of which I hand carved using the tools she gave me for a gift, falls finally from my grip. I had forgotten I was still carrying it. Stained with her blood it shows the depth of my hatred for her in a bright red line. My ever calculating mind measures it to be around five to six inches. A series of dull rapid thunks, as it impacts on the marble tiles, mimic my pounding heart.

I make a tea to calm my nerves, Oolong Peach, because I find its light fruity flavour takes the bitterness out. Over a second cup I come to a decision. I will burn them both in the belly of an old smithy forge located out behind the barn. Grandpa worked as a blacksmith on it for most of his left and kept up his trade almost until the day that he died. Grandpa gave me the farm in his Will. He always had a kind heart for the unfortunate.

***

Mary goes in by sections. First her head, then her chest, and then finally her hips and legs. I have to fold them up because they were so long. I almost cut her off at the knees but couldn’t bring myself to do it. Mary always did have a nice set of legs. It’s what drew me to her in the first place, well that an her tight ass. Nursing two new blisters on my hand I put another log on before going back to the house.

It takes some scrubbing but soon I get all the stains of Mary out of my life.

It is the best anniversary ever.


CoS
 


Last edited by castlesofsand; 06-29-2009 at 10:14 AM..
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  #2  
Old 06-29-2009, 05:14 AM
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When I first started reading this one, I thought it was kind of sad. It seemed like the loving husband trying to be there and listen to his wife (who I thought may have just been shot by someone--first reaction a robber). Then, well. . .wow. This is definitely one "eye-holding" little story you have here!

I would love for you to write this another way. I don't mean it to sound like an assignment or anything, but I think it would be kind of cool if you wrote something from Mary's point of view. Two stories that are intertwined. . . hmmm. . .Going back further than the attack, writing about her relationship with the MC. Just a thought--feel free to ignore my hamster wheel! Lol.

Anywho, just to reiterate, I really enjoyed this! If not a fan before, the readers will definitely be looking for more from you now!
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Old 06-29-2009, 05:34 AM
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thank you Firefly

I think it would have to be a second story, though could be put into here at the start maybe. A bit harder because she dying at the beginning so without given up that hint. hmmmm something to think on, show her dark side.

thanks again for the read and thoughts, something to dwell on

CoS
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Old 06-29-2009, 03:48 PM
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Originally Posted by castlesofsand View Post
Weíve been married for twenty years now. Twenty and counting. Itís our anniversary, so I take the time to listen to whatever she has to say. I hang on every word, nod my head in agreement. Itís the least I can do.

Sheís down to soft moans now thankfully. Her screams were horrible and I thought theyíd never stop. It is a good thing we live a healthy mile away from the nearest neighbours for she had a healthy set of lungs on her.

Used healthy twice here.

I watch as her body trembles, convulses and then jets out another fountain of blood from the wound in her chest. Itís probably only from the nerves powering down the living plant. Muscles constricting, squeeze out pooled blood from inside her body cavities. Just Maryís brains cells signing off.

Like "living plant" didnt like "cells signing off"

Goodbye.

Here is where the guy is really gross to me lol

A pink bubble forces its way out from the recess of her left nostril. It expands until with a soft pop it allows the liquid trapped inside to drip to the tiled floor.

Here is where you are lol

Such a visual and I've just had lunch sooo blaaaah!

I want so badly to clean it up for Iím a bit of a neat freak, not obsessively so, but pretty close. I hold off because, you see, I donít want to give her any signs of hope. I want her to feel exactly the same way I felt for these last twenty years. I want her to die feeling helplessness. I tidy up instead, just out of her line of sight until a sound draws my eyes back.

Nice, I like that he cleans outside of her sight, he is very odd this one, like him alot, even crazy as he is---- a bit of a whiny guy here but thats ok he makes up for it by being cruel

Itís just another moan escaping, another bubble bursting free, another drop spitting itself onto my once spotless floor. It can be only a matter of time, after all, how much more blood can she hold?

Once more visuals that hit like that little thingy the doctor uses on my knees -- ping ouch

I wait her out, put the kettle on.

oh wow favorite part

***

Mary hasnít blinked for just over eight minutes now. I watch in amazement as a large blue-bottle fly lands on her nose, works its way down the bridge and then, after a few circles, disappears into her open mouth. I almost gag.

Man it just keeps coming and my tummy is turning here, very good

It doesnít return.

I wait another five minutes for I need to be sure and always wanted to witness a moment of death.

"Goodbye, Mary." I whisper. She doesn't answer.

It is everything I hoped it could be.


The reader is glad its over it was hard to watch

***

Mary is slumped to her side now. Eyes which are dull and truly life-less for the first time regard me. I notice that there is only a slight difference in her awareness of me and yet I am surprised by even that. The wooden stake, of which I hand carved using the tools she gave me for a gift, falls finally from my grip. I had forgotten I was still carrying it. Stained with her blood it shows the depth of my hatred for her in a bright red line. My ever calculating mind measures it to be around five to six inches. A series of dull rapid thunks, as it impacts on the marble tiles, mimic my pounding heart.

Like that her awareness is the same to him ha ha, wooden stake kinda pulled me from the story to like a vampire thing even though I knew that wasnt so, just went huh?


I make a tea to calm my nerves, Oolong Peach, because I find its light fruity flavour takes the bitterness out. Over a second cup I come to a decision. I will burn them both in the belly of an old smithy forge located out behind the barn. Grandpa worked as a blacksmith on it for most of his left and kept up his trade almost until the day that he died. Grandpa gave me the farm in his Will. He always had a kind heart for the unfortunate.

Im being pulled a bit more away sorry

***

Mary goes in by sections. First her head, then her chest, and then finally her hips and legs. I have to fold them up because they were so long. I almost cut her off at the knees but couldnít bring myself to do it. Mary always did have a nice set of legs. Itís what drew me to her in the first place, well that an her tight ass. Nursing two new blisters on my hand I put another log on before going back to the house.

Now we are talking HE"S BACK !!!

It takes some scrubbing but soon I get all the stains of Mary out of my life.

It is the best anniversary ever.



CoS
 

Clever, interesting, gross, and strange, my kinda story!

Good job, well written

Cant help myself....... it was cool! lol


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Old 06-29-2009, 03:57 PM
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hello and thank you, Calli

lol, it's okay to write cool.

I agree about the stake, will have to replace it to a more suitable weapon, I originally wanted it so as to leave no trace after, but the forge would take care of any metal.

the mention of the forge should be shortened down to one or two lines. I think you are right that it pulls out eyes.

will amend

thank you for the read and thoughts,

CoS
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Old 06-29-2009, 04:11 PM
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Default Revised, thank you Firefly and Calligraphy

We’ve been married for twenty years now. Twenty and counting. It’s our anniversary, so I take the time to listen to whatever she has to say. I hang on every word, nod my head in agreement. It’s the least I can do.

She’s down to soft moans now thankfully. Her screams were horrible and I thought they’d never stop. It is a good thing we live a good country mile away from the nearest neighbours for she had a healthy set of lungs on her.

I watch as her body trembles, convulses and then jets out another fountain of blood from the wound in her chest. It’s probably only from the nerves powering down the living plant. Muscles constricting, squeeze out pooled blood from inside her body cavities. Just Mary’s brains cells signing off.

Goodbye.

A pink bubble forces its way out from the recess of her left nostril. It expands until with a soft pop it allows the liquid trapped inside to drip to the tiled floor.

I want so badly to clean it up for I’m a bit of a neat freak, not obsessively so, but pretty close. I hold off because, you see, I don’t want to give her any signs of hope. I want her to feel exactly the same way I felt for these last twenty years. I want her to die feeling helplessness. I tidy up instead, just out of her line of sight until a sound draws my eyes back.

It’s just another moan escaping, another bubble bursting free, another drop spitting itself onto my once spotless floor. It can be only a matter of time, after all, how much more blood can she hold?

I wait her out, put the kettle on.

***

Mary hasn’t blinked for just over eight minutes now. I watch in amazement as a large blue-bottle fly lands on her nose, works its way down the bridge and then, after a few circles, disappears into her open mouth. I almost gag.

It doesn’t return.

I wait another five minutes for I need to be sure and always wanted to witness a moment of death.

"Goodbye, Mary." I whisper. She doesn't answer.

It is everything I hoped it could be.

***

Mary is slumped to her side now. Eyes which are dull and truly life-less for the first time regard me. I notice that there is only a slight difference in her awareness of me and yet I am surprised by even that. The ice pick she gave me for christmas, falls finally from my grip. I had forgotten it was still in my hand. Stained with her blood it shows the depth of my hatred for her in a streaky red line. My ever calculating mind measures it to be around four to five worth. It's clattering sets my nerves on edge.

I make a tea to calm myself down. On the second cup I decide that the old blacksmith forge out back of the barn will be the perfect solution. Two hours later the fiery blast radiating from the open doors tell me its ready.

***

Mary goes in by sections. First her head, then her chest, and then finally her hips and legs. I have to fold them up because they were so long. I almost cut her off at the knees but couldn’t bring myself to do it. Mary always did have a nice set of legs. It’s what drew me to her in the first place, well that an her tight ass. Nursing two new blisters on my hand I put another log on before going back to the house.

It takes some scrubbing but soon I get all the stains of Mary out of my life.

Happy Anniversary.

CoS

Last edited by castlesofsand; 06-29-2009 at 04:30 PM..
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Old 06-30-2009, 05:41 AM
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lol i thought i saw a comment here from yesterday, but i guess it was spam, damn bots...sneaky lil fellas
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Old 06-30-2009, 05:44 AM
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Yeah, sorry about that, CoS! We can try to keep up with them but sometimes they just seem to multiple overnight! Lol.
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Old 06-30-2009, 06:02 AM
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lmao, no worries, i seldom click on links, gawd knows where they send you.

appreciate the reply

CoS
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Old 06-30-2009, 07:22 AM
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Ahhhh...the ice pick does the trick! Love the visuals on this one---bright red line, blue bottle fly. Yuck man! I even love the Oolong peach tea to calm his oh-so-sensitive nerves. Spot on.
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Old 06-30-2009, 08:01 AM
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nothing like a cuppa to calm down the nerves after a quick murder, i always say

thank you for the read and thoughts

CoS
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Old 06-30-2009, 08:13 AM
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Another very good dark tale CoS

Love the bit about the blue bottle, yuk and the blood bubbling from her nostrils and his waiting and watching for her moment of death.

I was just thinking about this paragraph

I want so badly to clean it up for Iím a bit of a neat freak, not obsessively so, but pretty close. I hold off because, you see, I donít want to give her any signs of hope. I want her to feel exactly the same way I felt for these last twenty years. I want her to die feeling helplessness. I tidy up instead, just out of her line of sight until a sound draws my eyes back.
I'm not sure if I can explain this, it might just be me but it feels like the MC has taken a step back and this is being explained to me as the reader rather than feeling I'm inside his head.

He now has the power, has her attention. I wasn't sure if he was fed up of always having to listen to her but the reverse not being true but if so, this could be his opportunity. I'll stop rambling - it's your story.

"Goodbye, Mary." I whisper. She doesn't answer.

It is everything I hoped it could be.
I loved these two lines very much, but for me they felt like the ending of the story.


I did enjoy the read.
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Old 06-30-2009, 08:26 AM
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Ramble away

i have a weakness for that art myself

glad you enjoyed this, unsure what it was suppose to be but eh, that's writing for you

thanks again

CoS
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Old 06-30-2009, 09:00 AM
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Reviewer Disclaimer:

First off, what I offer here is nothing more than my opinions. I'm no expert, in fact I don't even think that I ever even got an "A" in an English class. But I'll tell you what I liked and what I thought seemed a little off. I'm not trying to make myself feel important (I hate when people do that) I'm just telling you what I think. That being said, I'll go ahead and review:

This was so creepy that it made my skin crawl. The matter of fact first person perspective with which you deliver this story is absolutely chilling. I thought that you were going to trick me and the dead being was going to be a pig or something. But the gradual realization that there was no less bone chilling explanation to come, worked perfectly. I was slowly being dropped into horror that though right before my eyes I refused to believe that I was seeing.

Stained with her blood it shows the depth of my hatred for her in a bright red line.
This line was absolute genius in my opinion (you might want to pop a comma in there after "blood"). My only nitpick in the story was here ...

Grandpa worked as a blacksmith on it for most of his left and kept up his trade almost until the day that he died.
Should that have been "life" instead of "left"??
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Old 06-30-2009, 10:19 AM
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hello and thank you, am happy you liked and another writer venturing into the dark side is always a good thing to here.

i agree with the comma and that darn 'life' ugh, eyes and fingers never talk to each other anymore .

I will edit accordingly

thanks again

CoS
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Old 06-30-2009, 10:21 AM
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Default Revised - thank you all for the help

We’ve been married for twenty years now. Twenty and counting. It’s our anniversary, so I take the time to listen to whatever she has to say. I hang on every word, nod my head in agreement. It’s the least I can do.

She’s down to soft moans now thankfully. Her screams were horrible and I thought they’d never stop. It is a good thing we live a good country mile away from the nearest neighbours for she had a healthy set of lungs on her.

I watch as her body trembles, convulses and then jets out another fountain of blood from the wound in her chest. It’s probably only from the nerves powering down the living plant. Muscles constricting, squeeze out pooled blood from inside her body cavities. Just Mary’s brains cells signing off.

Goodbye.

A pink bubble forces its way out from the recess of her left nostril. It expands until with a soft pop it allows the liquid trapped inside to drip to the tiled floor.

I want so badly to clean it up for I’m a bit of a neat freak, not obsessively so, but pretty close. I hold off because, you see, I don’t want to give her any signs of hope. I want her to feel exactly the same way I felt for these last twenty years. I want her to die feeling helplessness. I tidy up instead, just out of her line of sight until a sound draws my eyes back.

It’s just another moan escaping, another bubble bursting free, another drop spitting itself onto my once spotless floor. It can be only a matter of time, after all, how much more blood can she hold?

I wait her out, put the kettle on.

***

Mary hasn’t blinked for just over eight minutes now. I watch in amazement as a large blue-bottle fly lands on her nose, works its way down the bridge and then, after a few circles, disappears into her open mouth. I almost gag.

It doesn’t return.

I wait another five minutes before leaning in.

"Goodbye, Mary." I whisper. She doesn't answer.

It is everything I hoped it could be.

***

Mary is slumped to her side now. Eyes which are dull and truly life-less for the first time regard me. I notice that there is only a slight difference in her awareness of me and yet I am surprised by even that. The ice pick she gave me for christmas, falls finally from my grip. I had forgotten it was still in my hand. Stained with her blood, it shows the depth of my hatred for her in a streaky red line. My ever calculating mind measures it to be around four to five worth. It's clattering sets my nerves on edge.

I make a tea to calm myself down. On the second cup I decide that the old blacksmith forge out back of the barn will be the perfect solution. Two hours later the fiery blast radiating from the open doors tell me its ready.

***

Mary goes in by sections. First her head, then her chest, and then finally her hips and legs. I have to fold them up because they were so long. I almost cut her off at the knees but couldn’t bring myself to do it. Mary always did have a nice set of legs. It’s what drew me to her in the first place, well that an her tight ass. Nursing two new blisters on my hand I put another log on before going back to the house.

It takes some scrubbing but soon I get all the stains of Mary out of my life.

Happy Anniversary.


CoS

Last edited by castlesofsand; 06-30-2009 at 12:36 PM..
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Old 06-30-2009, 11:37 AM
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I wait another five minutes for I need to be sure and always wanted to witness a moment of death.
I would lose this sentence. It just doesn't seem to fit. the "for" rings wrong and the last clause seems superficial to the circumstances. It doesn't really do anything for you.

What's missing here, maybe, is why he's killing her. She made him suffer, he says, but how? Why? It wouldn't take more than a few words to fill that in.
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Old 06-30-2009, 12:35 PM
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hello

yeah i didn't really care much for that last bit, so agree.

the reason, hmmmmm why does there need to be a defined reason. I could snap a life out for no reason, i'm sure he could to, but i hinted a bit that she never listened. sometimes that's reason enough.

will edit that piece a bit better.

thanks for the read and thoughts

CoS
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Old 06-30-2009, 12:43 PM
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No need for reasons if you see it that way.

He mentions that she made him feel helpless and suffer, but there's no clue as to why.

But if that's you intent, you're the one in charge.
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Old 06-30-2009, 12:49 PM
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yes that was my intent.

i find too many want to know why, whether its our curiousity or just that 'driving by an accident scene'

hard to say, it guess it can go either way, tell or not tell and just let the reader decide. As long as too many questions are left, I think it will be okay as it is.

but thanks for giving me pause to consider.

CoS
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Old 06-30-2009, 05:34 PM
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Upon reflection, and realising that the reason i came to this site was to get rid of a few problems in my writing, I will agree with you on the other point you mentioned, Lin.

One of my weaknesses, I believe, is I sometimes leave it to vague, make the reader guess too much. Sad that it takes me so long. But I catch on, cause I want to learn.

So, you mentioned about the reasoning behind his killing her. So I'm going to colour it in a bit more, not make it a scene, but a shadow and hope it's enough to make me want to do it next time.

Thanks for the shake, sometimes I tend to forget why i'm here.

CoS
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Old 06-30-2009, 05:58 PM
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Default Revised - thank you Lin

We’ve been married for twenty years now. Twenty and counting. It’s our anniversary, so I take the time to listen to whatever she has to say. I hang on every word, nod my head in agreement because, it's the least I can do.

***

She’s down to soft moans now. Thankfully, for her screams were horrible. In truth I thought they’d never stop. It is a good thing we live out in the woods on a farm Grandpa gave me in his Will. The nearest neighbour was well over a mile away.

I watch as her body trembles, convulses and then jets out another fountain of blood from the wound in her chest. It’s probably only from the nerves powering down the living plant. Muscles constricting, squeeze out pooled blood from inside her body cavities. Just Mary’s brains cells signing off.

Goodbye.

A pink bubble forces its way out from the recess of her left nostril. It expands until with a soft pop it allows the liquid trapped inside to drip to the tiled floor.

I want so badly to clean it up for I’m a bit of a neat freak, not obsessively so, but pretty close. I hold off because, you see, I don’t want to give her any signs of hope. I want her to feel exactly the same way I felt for these last twenty years. I want her to die feeling helplessness. I tidy up instead, just out of her line of sight until a sound draws my eyes back.

It’s just another moan escaping, another bubble bursting free, another drop spitting itself onto my once spotless floor. It can be only a matter of time, after all, how much more blood can she hold?

I wait her out, put the kettle on.

***

Mary hasn’t blinked for just over eight minutes now. I watch in amazement as a large blue-bottle fly lands on her nose, works its way down the bridge and then, after a few circles, disappears into her open mouth. I almost gag.

It doesn’t return.

I wait another five minutes before leaning in.

"Goodbye, Mary." I whisper. She doesn't answer.

Her death is everything I hoped it would be.

***

Mary is slumped to her side now. Eyes which are dull and truly life-less for the first time regard me. I notice that there is only a slight difference in her awareness of me. Twenty years and I still played second fiddle to Tony Gallant. How her eyes lit up with love everytime he came over to visit.

My best friend.

The ice pick she gave me for christmas, finally falls from my grip. I had forgotten it was still in my hand. Stained with her blood, it shows the depth of my hatred in a streaky red line. My ever calculating mind measures it to be around four to five inches worth. It's clattering on the tiles sets my nerves on edge so I make a tea to calm them down.

By the second cup I decide that the old blacksmith forge out back of the barn will be the perfect solution. Two hours later the fiery blast radiating from the open doors tell me its ready.

***

Mary goes in by sections. First her head, then her chest, and then finally her hips and legs. I have to fold them up because they were so long. I almost cut her off at the knees but couldn’t bring myself to do it. Mary always did have a nice set of legs. It’s what drew me to her in the first place, well that an her tight ass. Nursing two new blisters on my hand I put another log on before going back to the house. I keep the fires burning.

Company shows up at nine promptly, as per invite.

We share a beer out by the barn.

Cheers Tony.

I bury the hatchet.



CoS

Last edited by castlesofsand; 07-01-2009 at 04:18 AM..
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  #23  
Old 07-01-2009, 02:35 PM
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Five blocks!

Great job, deserved it.

Jealous though(
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Old 07-01-2009, 05:15 PM
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lol @ five blocks, I didn't know what you were on about, just thought it was some strange saying. like us canadians have '23 skidoos' which meanings 'leaving in a hurry, sometimes one skidoo just isnt fast enough.

thank you for the return. i enjoyed writing both sides of this idea.

lol @ jealous...you know you write just as well.

CoS
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Old 07-01-2009, 06:16 PM
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Her death is everything I hoped it would be.
Gotta love it
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Old 07-02-2009, 03:21 AM
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yup, sometimes death works just fine as a problem solver.
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