Black Satin Dreams

Black Satin Dreams

            12:30 a.m.

            I look at myself in the vanity mirror. I am like a statue, unmoving.

            I look at the black dress I wear and I see how it doesn't match with the red headband I wear.

            I then walk up to the attic. I stare at all the cobwebs covering the clothes, the chests, the mannequins.

            I was programmed to clean away dust and grime, and especially cobwebs. Roger wouldn't have cobwebs. He said they only make Paradigm darker than it already was. A society of darkness.

            Well who would be there to sweep away those cobwebs when he was gone? He just assumed I would stay; along with his children and his mansion. Just because I will live on forever and he will die doesn't mean…that he should treat me any differently.

            I walk over to a mannequin and remove the coat off of it and put it on myself.

            It was the only thing besides a small box at my feet that wasn't covered in cobwebs; probably because of my recent use of them.

            I button up the coat and put the hood over my red hair. It shadows my face so I cannot see my eyes. That was good. Shadows were always good…to me anyway. You could hide in shadows.

            I kneel down to the small box at my feet. I open it and smile. What I see in it brings back vivid memories…Of the night at the Nightingale, the crashed car, the dead doorman, the blood, the golden tube of red lipstick. All of those memories fresh in my mind that a superior being like myself is hypothetically I am not supposed to have.

            A moonbeam of light glints on the item in the box. It shines on the silvery steel barrel.

            I pick it up and admire the piece of metal. Of course it isn't heavy to me at all, what do you think I am, human?

            I slip it gently into one of my coat pockets and quietly make my way back downstairs.

            I come to the first room along the long corridor. The door is open so I inaudibly ease inside. I walk over to the crib and see the two twin girls curled up to each other. Caseey and Patricia. Ugh.

            I walk across the wooden floor. It creaks.

            The children don't wake up though. I knew they wouldn't. I slipped sleeping pills into their milk.

            I look over to the edge of the crib and aim carefully. I can hear their soft breathing. I pull the trigger of the gun in my hand and two shots ring out in the silent night.

            No one will hear of course. Roger's entire mansion is soundproof.

            I watch the blood from their bodies seep into their mattress.

            I cannot hear their breathing anymore.

            I walk out of the children's room and continue into the next room.

            There I see in the corner, curled up in a chair, a fallen angel. Drowning in an illusion of heaven.

            I look to another place in the room. Under black satin covers lays Roger Smith. The man who will only and always wear black.

             They won't notice me here. I slipped them sleeping pills as well.

            I walk over to the fallen angel. I press the cold steel to her chest and pull the trigger. She stops breathing as well and goes limp.

            I slip away from her soundlessly and I watch the red blood soak through her clothing and into the material of the chair.

            I sneak over to Roger. For a brief moment I sit down next to him on the bed and stroke his unkempt jet-black hair.

He sleeps peacefully. He seems to be dreaming about something serene, for a smile has cast about his face.

"Enjoy your dream, Roger. I'm only doing this for your own good," I say to him, even though I know he cannot hear me.

I stand up quickly, my mind set on what I have to do. I aim the gun.

            I watch for a few minutes. I admire his features in the dark. He is a creature that belongs to the darkness.

            I begin to squeeze the trigger.

He is still smiling. A lock of his hair falls out of place and rests on his perfect face.

            As I pull the trigger, I say "I hope you meet a true angel in heaven, Roger. Good bye."

            A shot rings out for the fourth time tonight and breaks the peace of the hours of darkness.

            I watch as he struggles to continue breathing. He finally stops for good and continues to smile.

            He is still in his black satin dream of darkness.

            I turn to the mirror and look at myself in the red hooded coat.

            Walking down to the foyer I think about what time Norman will return home tomorrow.

            No matter.

            He will come home to meet up with an empty house of undying spirits.

            I open the door and walk outside.

            While closing the door, I wonder if Roger has met his angel in heaven yet.

            I then run away, splashing in the puddles and leave no footprints in the damp mud.