Dinner Table Conversations

Entering the dining hall I'm unable to get my nerves under control. I never do well at social events like this one. Everyone there seems more posh than me and I never have anyone to talk to. I always end up going though. My agent would kill me if I didn't attend this event to promote my latest book. I soon arrive at my table and look around to see if I know any of the other writers at the table. As usual I don't. There is however a rather beautiful woman who's sitting right next to me.

I sit down and straighten out my clothes, it won't do to make a bad first impression on her or anyone else at the table. She slowly turns to me and asks my name. Avery, I whisper barely even registering what I'm saying to the breathtaking woman in front of me. We quickly spark up a conversation. It's weird because we get along surprisingly well, like a singer and their voice.  As we talk our conversation slowly fades from idle chit chat into more personal details of our life. While talking our conversation quickly becomes about books, as it usually does with not just me but  I suspect most of the people in the room.

As the we continue to ramble on about everything and nothing all at once she asks me what kind of writing  I do and to my surprise and amusement we find out that we are both murder fiction novelist. From there the conversation spirals into the nuances of writing a murder and making it as realistic as possible.  The topic is one that hits close to home as many a time I've had to assure friends that I'm just looking for a new plot for a story not actually planning a murder. This is really a much more common mistake than anyone would suspect. I actually think I could probably plan a more fool proof murder than an actual murderer. 

Dinner flies by quicker than an actual fly and I barely even notice it! While the dinner is lovely(I never could resist a supremely cheesy pasta)and the dessert is genuinely hard to stop eating, the undisputed highlight of the evening has to be the stellar conversationalist that was sitting right besides me. We rambled on a on about blood splatter patterns all thought the entree, we discuss the amount of time a person takes to die when strangled during the main course, and about methods to get away with murder during dessert. It really is a titillating topic! There is never a break in the conversation and she offers brilliant insight that I had never thought about before. As an unexpected and exciting bonus she is well versed in the human psyche and gives me insight into the murders mind that I had never even thought of before. Seeing as she was the most interesting person I had met in awhile I decided that there was no way I could let her go so easily.

 We connected so well it was like we were soul mates. Our interest perfectly matched and there was an undeniable tension between us. I decided to ask her out for drinks since it was only ten o'clock and to my surprise she accepted. She even seemed excited!

We stumble hand in hand down the street to a small bar where the drinks are cheap and the seats are dirty and I desperately tried to ignore the voice in my head telling me to be careful of making a fool of myself. She was one of the most interesting(and good looking) people I had met in a long time. If things went as was planning in my head, my dress would soon be on the floor along with hers. 

We drink till we're both drunkenly rambling about the most undetectable method to kill a person and other such scintillating topics. Together we not only almost polished off a full bottle of whiskey but also emptied both our wallets.

By this time I was almost certain that I would definitely spend the night with her today or at least meet her again. We got along too well to not be at least friends. After getting kicked out of the bar and sufficiently dirtying both of our gowns we started our trek back up her apartment. We staggered up the stairs and finally made our way to the bedroom where we wasted no more time ridding each other of all the unnecessary clothing that was getting in the way of  our extra curricular activities. The night was far from 'magical'. We were too sloshed for that so we settled for sloppy and entertaining.

The next morning I awoke much before her with a splitting headache that I probably deserved after all the drinking I did the previous night. I slowly picked myself up and painstakingly roamed around the apartment and praying that I would arrive at the toilet. 

After roaming around for a while I noticed something quite intriguing. On a dusty shelf there was what seemed to be a various vintage pieces. Two antique looking plates, an antique looking tea pot, a jade bowl and an ornamental dagger with a leather handle. The shelf looked like it hadn't been dusted in a century. I reached out and picked up the dagger holding it by the handle. The leather was supple, almost as if it had been used ever day of its long existence. The dagger was a small inconsequential ornament among many others, but the fact that she had mentioned that daggers were one of her favorite method for killing people in her books was a detail that made the hair on my back rise despite the fact that many writers preferred it. The more gory a murder scene the better! It helped portray a sense of cruelty in the murderer. As if the murder was more for their pleasure than revenge or even passion. The moment I unsheathed the dagger it was clear that it was no ornamental piece. The blade was honed to perfection.

 Just then I heard her walk into the room. Continuing to hold the dagger I turned to face her. The look of astonishment of her face was clear. There was no mistaking the fact that I had uncovered a secret. Instead of running from the house screaming like anyone else would I calmly walked up to her. There was no fear in her eyes, she didn't expect anything. The moment I was close enough I pulled her closed and thrust my hand forward and pushed the dagger into her heart. Instead of pulling out I twisted the handle just as she had told me she had done in "her novel". Now I was not twisting to be cruel, I had recently learnt that doing so widened the wound and helped the victim to bleed out faster. So if you really think about it I was being merciful. I slowly watched as the life drained out of her eyes and dropped her body to the floor. 

Now you must  be wondering WHY?!? What possessed me to do this? And to tell you the truth I have no idea. Murder had always fascinated me and I had come to terms with the fact that one day the temptation to live out one of my stories would be too much. There was a serious possibility that I had just jumped to an unreasonable conclusion and killed an innocent women. For all I knew she just really loved hunting. Those justifications were inconsequential to me. Whether innocent or not the deed was done and it  had given me a rush few things ever had.

  Walking toward the sink I carefully rinsed the blood off the knife and placed it back in its sheath. I placed the dagger back on the shelf and watched as water droplets fell from my hand onto the dusty shelf.  I then crawled back into bed to take a well earned nap. I really shouldn't drink so much in the future.