The Heart
A man sat at his desk, a pencil gripped in his determined hand. He was writing on a sheet of paper, describing exactly the scene and how he wanted it to go. It had to be perfect. He had to get his prize.
The woman reached out, stroking the man's long blond mane. They were lying on a bed, their bodies twisted within the tangled sheets. Upon his return to Llanview, they had got back together. They both just met the summit of pleasure.
"I can't believe that this is real... that after all these years, you and I are back together," she spoke.
Although twenty years younger, the man absolutely adored her. To him, age was only a number. She was still beautiful and he still wanted her. In fact, he wanted her now more than ever.
But what about her husband?
"What about him?" he asked as he hesitated. His lips had been just about to take hers in another passionate kiss.
"He'll never find out about us," she said. "What he doesn't know, won't hurt him."
The writer ceased for a moment, chewing on his pencil while deep in thought. He was thinking about the charm he had ordered online not even a week ago. He thought about the powers it was said to possess. He had ordered it from Catalonia. According to the literature, it was supposed to provide whoever possessed it with a miracle. It would provide his heart's desire.
He knew exactly what he wanted.
He wore the charm on a chain. It rested against his chest. It was warm and it appeared to be beating. The metal had been formed into the shape of a human heart. He could hear the steady thumping as he thought about the glass crystal case His Miracle had arrived in. It sat empty in the next room. It was waiting.
As he began writing again, the thumping he heard became louder, almost frantic in it's intensity. It reminded him somewhat of the tattoo in Poe's Tell-Tale Heart... except this heart was a gift.
A gift for himself.
"Here it goes," the writer said as the words flowed down upon the paper.
The man and the woman were kissing. Their lips moved together in urgency.
The curtain moved aside. The murderer left his place, where for the past hour, he had been hidden.
He wore a long black cloak with a hood. No part of him was visible, except for perhaps his eyes. They glowed with a startling, unnatural light.
He watched, emotionless as the man and woman had sex. As the man's hips stopped pumping, the woman drug her nails across his smooth back. "Ohhh Jason... that was so good..." she breathed.
"I love you," he said as he drew away from her.
The murderer rushed forward then, his black-gloved hands reaching out toward the woman. Before she could even register what had hit her, he settled those hands upon her chest.
She recognized him. Before she could say his name, he sunk his fingers inside of her.
There was the sound of tearing flesh and the gasp of incredible pain that came from her startled lips. All of that paled with the screams of terror from the man.
"Dorian!" he cried out, yet he was powerless to help her.
The murderer held her beating heart in his hands. He had obtained his prize.
The writer set down his pencil. The charm he wore was warm. It lay snug against his chest. As he stood, he was determined. He had to have his prize. He needed it. He had to have it.
He had to have it, so he could have her... the woman he desired.
She had loved him once... but it had all gone to hell.
But he would have her back. She would be his. He would see to it.
The glass case sat upon the table, the one that had contained the charm. It had been empty, but now it contained his prize.
It contained the heart.
It beat with his love for her.
"Marty," he said as her name floated across his lips.
