Stories For A Rainy Day

Kiss From A Purple Rose

He approached the old house, a thousand memories passing through his mind at once just from the sight of the old black door that barely hung on its hinges. Time had not been kind to the man or the house, but he supposed he knew it wouldn't be. Everything eventually returns to the earth that it came from anyway. Well, sometimes.

A soft sigh escaped the man as he shook his head in the attempt to clear the memories that threatened to cloud his mind as well as the bitter sting of tears that welled in his eyes. Now was not the time for that, was it? Maybe, just maybe this would all be proven a dream... But no. No. That hope, the simplest wish made in the darkest hours of the night, the quietest plea made to the cold and callous stars and the harsh unforgiving moon was dashed as he pushed open the old black door, flinching at the squall of the hinges, and nothing but the scent of dust and mildew greeted him. The man shivered despite the warmth of the night air, anxiously shifting from foot to foot where he stood, debating with himself over the idea of going inside. If he had the courage to face what the past brought and what turned him into what he was. What if she wouldn't forgive him? What if she was angry with him? No. She wouldn't be. She loved him and he knew it. He was all she truly had. "Why am I so nervous over this? I have no reason to be!" he chided himself with a faint growl under his breath as he stepped inside.

Each step caused the floor boards to groan in protest, dust sent to dance in the night air until it settled back down once more. The man crossed through each room carefully as to not disturb anything any more than need be. His dark gaze shifted around the dining room, resting on a dusty shelf covered in half empty bottles.

'Can I kill him?'
'No.'
'But why?'

Those words... Those cursed words. Echoes of a long distant past filled his mind until he felt that he was going to go insane. A scream of anger erupted from the man as he swung his arm, knocking the bottles to the floor with no care at all that they shattered around him. He stood among the colorful shards as the echoes gave way to silence, only broken by the man's sharp intake of breath. Slowly, ever so slowly, the man calmed down and a curious look crossed his face which was soon replaced by a serene smile. "Ah, what's the point? It's over. No need for anything anymore, right?" he chuckled softly as he shook his head and made his way to the top of the stairs.

His smile widened as he stared up into the inky blackness of the shadows that beckoned him. A giddy laugh escaped the man as he made his way up the stairs, only stopping long enough to straighten a crooked frame on the wall. The man passes each closed door, his fingertips leaving a clean trail in the dust that covered each until he reached the end of the hall. A pinkish colored door, one that was once a deep rich red, was the last thing that stood between him and his goal.

Without a second thought, he pulled open the door and made his way up into the attic.

The man looked around with a content smile, his gaze lingering on each of the crumbling and faded newspaper articles that hung on the walls, each one talking about the newest victims of the purple rose killer. Time had seemed to stand still in that room. Not a speck of dust touched the walls and shelves, not a single whiff of decay or rot assaulted his nose. The serene smile touched his lips once more as he sat in the middle of the floor and looked at each of the covered figures surrounding him in turn before he pulled a string that was tied to each cloth. The only sound that broke the silence in the room was the soft thump of cloth hitting the carpeted rug.

The man's eyes lit up as he admired his handiwork. Not a blemish or a spot of decomposition could be seen, not a single hair was out of place, the only thing wrong was some of the clothing was slightly shifted from the pulling of the cloth. His dark gaze finally fell on the middle corpse, a mere child of the tender age of ten, and a single tear slid down his cheek. "You were taken away from me so early my dear sister. But as you see, I took care of that! But what you haven't seen is the fact that I've continued! They call me a serial killer but that's okay, I don't mind that. I so this to help others but they refuse to see it. But that's okay too, they'll see soon enough. As long as you're safe then everything is okay." He smiled as he looked around again humming softly to himself as he adjusted the hem of a skirt.

"I have new friends for you to play with, by the way. But I hope you won't be mad at me since they aren't your age, and I hope that you're not mad that I haven't been here in such a long time. I'm sure they'll be nice to you though." The male got to his feet and glanced around once more, a slight frown touching his lips. "It seems I'll have to move you and your friends though. This place is falling apart. Besides I have a much nicer place now. Speaking of, I should get home. I have a new friend to take care of before you come home. But I promise I'll be back for you very soon," he said as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his sister's frozen lips and stepped out of the room, light illuminating the purple roses that lay in each corpse's lap before the door was shut once more.