It's not that I didn't like Ms. Collins. No, it's not that at all. In fact, I loved her, I needed her, I wanted her... She was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. I remember standing outside her bedroom window, looking in to see her combing her long, dark ebony hair. It was just below her waist. Her eyes... She had blinding green eyes that glistened like stars.
Every night she sat at her mirror combing her hair. She practically put on a show, as if she knew I was watching, like she wanted me to watch. When she had finally finished with that she would spray bits of perfume all over her body, even the air above her. It made me sneeze each time, but luckily she couldn't hear my silent ice-breaker. My nerves couldn't take much more. I had to move. Before it was too late.
I took a sip from the cold water I had at my side, to quench my thirst, before I proceeded. The old clock struck twelve. I moved toward her. I put my hands around her mouth and neck, but not before she could let out a short shriek. She tried to resist. She was strong, for a woman, and she put up a good fight. The candle, which was lit, was burning bright. It had a foul stench once it was extinguished.
My heart raced faster and faster. I knew I had to do it now. I felt her slowly loosening her grip. The sounds of her dying heart were all around me. It's not that I hated Ms. Collins, I loved her.
YOU ARE READING
Sombre Thoughts
Historia CortaWelcome to the melancholy world that is my brain. The following is an anthology of dark and somewhat lugubrious works that started my passion for writing.