Today was going to be my day.
My love for my fiancé was to be announced to the world in a flurry of satin dresses and ties and rings; lips against lips and hips against hips. We were to tattoo our lives with vows of "I do's" and kisses to end all.
As I write this, I'm reminded of my promises and of my past. I'm reminded that I deserve to be happy as well, but it simply cannot happen. As I write this, I hate myself with a passion that all hells and pergatories cannot rival.
My love for my fiancé was stabbed into the past in a flurry of blood-stained knives and scattered screams and lost hope; lips against hips and hips against hips-- piled-up bodies and blood-soaked dresses and eyes full of a terror only death may bring. I tattooed history by becoming the fiancée that killed her fiancé, by becoming the bride-to-be that was no more a bride-to-be, but a serial killer of her and his families.
Today was going to be my day, up until the point my knife plunged into my lover's chest as we kissed the kiss that would've sealed our love, that would've tattooed the world with rose petals and satin dresses.
Today was going to be my day...
**word count: 217 words.**
**genre: horror/fiction**
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories Collection
Short StoryInterested in horror? How about fiction? Sci-fi, fantasy? Good. This will be a collection of short stories that may make you cry, fearful, happy, or laugh. This is a collection of my writing, my heart, my soul. My personal story fractured into other...
