Woah! I swear, when I sat down, I ment to write a comedy. I promise! Now, I'll let you guys figure out who is who. I didnt name anyone. I just hope it isnt to confusing (or weird) for people. Hell, I'm confused and I wrote it!
This is for my home dawgs who keep encoraging me to write without even knowing it.
Let it be known, that when she started her game it was not the goal to tear the man apart.
But as she looks down at the blood on her hands, she knows that it was the only possible solution.
It had started quite simple, really; he had waltzed into her life, like some sort of twisted fairytale prince, and they fought like any enemies would. It seemed only natural for them, after a while, to run out of things to fight about.
So they kissed.
She loved him dearly, for the longest while, even though he was clearly not responding the same way. He was bored and angry, a terrible combination of things; he soon accused her of being a cheat, a harlot. She, of course, was not, and fought valiantly to save the heart of the man she was infatuated with, although, as we know, it was a lost cause.
The other man watched.
He waited patiently for her to run, intercepting her when she was alone. He asked her to play a game. A small, fleeting game to save herself; he would help her if she would figure out his riddle.
The man was mystifying, a truly strange creature. He delighted in her pain, but delighted more in her laughter. The woman was wary, knowing the danger but needing the escape. So she agreed.
The answer to the riddle disturbed her, and she hoped that it was not literally meant. She knew by the look in the mans eyes that of course it was, or he wouldn't have asked her to play. He wanted destruction, chaos. His eyes danced with the knowledge that she would retrieve the answer to his riddle, and she would be free for it.
And she ran home.
It was easier to forget why you regret things, she thought, when the person your guilt is focused on is trying to hurt you. Her love who was no longer her love collapsed as she drove the knife into his chest, feeling the scrape of the metal against the bone of his chest plate. He grasped at her throat in vain, for he could not focus on anything but the pain searing through his body. She gasped as she cut deeper, the man still struggling for life, gurgling as his throat filled with blood. She focused on her work as he died, cutting out his heart as best she could with the sounds of her home filling her ears. Baseball on the tv, the neighbors dogs barking distantly, the hum of the drier in the laundry room. She loved him, she really did.
The other man watched in the background.
The shadows danced around him, cackling.
She handed the man the heart, the answer to his riddle, and with a delighted shriek they were gone, the soft glow of the lights once again illuminating her once lover.
If there was one thing the strange man loved, it was the irony of the phrase 'heartless'.
Sooo? Yes? No? Maybe? Was it good enough to be called a story, or was it just the random ramblings of a author that felt bad cause she hadn't uploaded anything in months? Review!