I do not own Riddick.
I do own a wedding ring.
Her
Ceryll Cantaglia.
The Guv was and had been many things.
A murderer, a madman, a thief.
Currently he was a liar.
He knew her name, he had always known her name.
Not even the fetid hellscape of Crematoria could burn it from him.
He had pretended to forget it.
To the scantest of few who had cared to toss out the question.
To his interrogators.
Even to himself.
Because she wouldn't have liked the man he had turned into after she was gone.
After they had killed her.
And their daughter.
Them.
He remembered them too.
He remembered the faces of those who had hurt his wife and baby daughter.
Remembered how they had screamed when he had cut them up.
How their blood had run red and soaked his hands.
For what they had done to her.
And their daughter.
As punishment for his failure to comply.
But he also remembered her.
The quiet calm in her eyes and the scent of her long dark hair.
He remembered how much he had loved her.
And he remembered her name.
Because he had never . . .
"Ellen."
. . . ever really forgotten it.
And then just when he was starting to get interesting, they snapped his spine.
Grrr . . .
I admit I love all the Riddick movies.
So thanks for reading.
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