He kissed the tips of his fingers
And brushed them across her
Lush, full, red lips.
Such the good girl,
Giving consent to be living bride.
Silken curls splayed across the
White satin pillow,
He trailed his long bony fingers
Down her alabaster neck,
Across her collarbone,
And down her bare shoulders.
How he loved her.
He knew that by just barely lifting the
Blankets that covered two sleeping forms,
He knew that he could expose
All the flesh he had ever been denied.
But he was a gentleman
And would never expose an angel.
One final time
He touched her velvet lips
As red as the rose
That was tied with black silk
And lovingly placed on her bedside table.
He made sure that the note was properly placed
And he slipped away to the highest balcony
That was above the newlywed's own.
With a deft twist of his hands,
A Punjab lasso was tied onto the rail.
Its soft whisper caressed his neck, and
As he tightened it, he thought:
And this is what they were afraid of?
Two feet placed themselves on the rail,
One man, alone in the darkest of nights.
Step one,
Step two,
Last thought: what a good girl
Christine awoke in a sweat,
Pale as the snow that touched the ground.
"Just a nightmare," she breathed.
She had dreamt that fateful night
For the tenth time since they left.
Her beloved husband was beside her
And her new wedding band
Shone on her hand.
What more could she want?
She reached for her robe and gasped.
Resting on her bedside table
Was a rose as red as blood
And tied with a ribbon black as night.
And seeming carefully placed under it,
Was a piece of parchment with strangely familiar
And childish, halting red scrawl addressing to
Christine.
With trembling hands,
She picked up and unfolded the letter.
It read:
My dearest Christine,
Aweek I thought of you
A week I dreamed of you returning to my loving embrace.
But alas, it seems that you shall not and I only wish you to know
I do truly love you.
And at times I cursed that true love,
For it began to kill me bit
By slowly decaying bit.
I do believe that I was dying of love for you,
And because I love you so,
I decided to gift you with one more thing.
No longer do you need to worry about keeping your promise
To bury me when I die.
For my dearest Christine,
I have come to you.
I remain dearest,
Your loving Angel,
Erik.
Slowly, Christine raised her eyes and scanned the room fearfully.
Her eyes came to rest on the drawn curtains of the window,
While the whole window should be lit up,
A shadow filled the middle of the window.
Ignoring her trepidation,
Christine walked slowly to the window while
Tying the sash to her robe
Incase anyone was outside.
She threw back the curtains
And for a moment stood in shock
Before a shrill, horrified scream filled the house.
Christine's nails dug into her grey cheeks and her eyes
Were met by the true face of death.
A/N: okay i was in a really bad but inspired mood when i wrote this. please review! i would appreciate it a lot. flames are fine if you put why you dont like it in the flame.