currently untitled

Short story, set in Victorian Era

Robert has always been beautiful, and working as his Valet de Chambre for the past five years has made my desire for him difficult to ignore. His alluring charisma and gentle aura made it easy for me to fall for him, however his continuous rotation of women, and the unprofessionalism of my lust, assured me that I must keep this hidden.  

Throughout my years in this profession, I had never met a man so reserved yet so confident. However, his confident ego disguised a damaged man that few had seen, his Father had never approved of him and this was evident when he slashed Robert’s arm when he was only a child - leaving a large scar that he now keeps covered underneath his extravagant tail coat. We had become increasingly close throughout my time as his Valet, as I also held a resentment towards my own parents - which we bonded over often. Robert has, however, become increasingly reserved throughout my time working for him, often spending his days in private quarters of the house, refusing any aid from myself or other household staff, only accepting the company of love affairs. Though this lack of interaction has not hindered my desire for him. However, this admiration changed significantly when he captured me in the greenhouse. 

 

I had been selecting tulips to gift to Robert when he snuck up on me. His hand gently curled around my shoulder blade - sending shivers throughout me. I swiftly turned to face him, taken aback by how close he was. He leaned down to whisper into my ear, requesting “come with me”. Placing his hand within mine he led me to the far corner of the greenhouse, hidden from onlookers. We had been standing in this corner for quite some time as he spoke of his isolation, recounting his days of comfort and long-needed peace. I became silently envious of him and those who had been witness to his nirvana, and had not spoken much during our interaction so far. I had not seen Richard for quite some time and my lust was beginning to overpower me once again, paired with shock that he was even outside of his private quarters let alone speaking with me. 

 He briefly stepped away, where I took the opportunity to regain my breath. He flipped open his cigarette case (a gift from his late father) and lifted a cigarette to his blushed lips, smirking at me as he did so. Robert had an awful habit of chain smoking, the only aspect of him that I was not too fond of.

“Would you like one?” he questioned as he lit a match.

“No Sir, I quit a long time ago” I replied, looking up at his angular face once again.

“How come?” he adjusted his sleeve, noticing a tea stain as he did so, then regained eye contact. His soft hazel eyes caught me off guard, as they had many times before, and a streak of brunette hair fell to balance on his eyelashes as he tilted his head quizzically. 

“Personal choice” I finally responded, after being lost in his gaze for far too long. 

“Fair enough,” he took a drag of his cigarette before continuing, “I have a gift for you”.

“A gift?” I felt my cheeks begin to warm into a blush as he placed the cigarette between his lips once again and shifted inside his jacket pocket. He revealed a beautiful silver dagger with engravings of his preferred flower, tulips, wrapped around the blade. As I inspected the blade, his sleeve was revealed to me once again, and I noticed the stain was not the light brown of tea I had observed earlier, it was far similar to the shade of old blood. 

He advanced towards me until I could feel his hot breath once again, “I have been waiting for a moment where I am truly alone with you”. His lips slowly curved into a smirk as he sunk the dagger deep into my abdomen. The pain was excruciating. Through my desperate eyes I glanced at him, possibly for the last time. I noticed he was bearing his beautiful smile, that I had always admired, and for the first time I looked at him with disgust. Is he enjoying this? He placed a kiss upon my forehead as my knees buckled beneath me, and he quickly grasped the nape of my neck as I fell - as if to protect me. He began to cradle me as I felt myself dipping in and out of consciousness. Why is he being so gentle with me? As I felt myself drifting away for the final time, I heard his confession.

“You are the perfect trophy, Thomas. It is going to be an absolute honour to wear your perfect olive skin, and have my people admire it for years to come. To have your heart next to my pillow, in the glass display I prepared years ago just for you. To wear your teeth on a rope around my neck, and to weave your golden hair into a bracelet to feel upon my wrist. Your alluring blue eyes that I am so privileged to be the last to close.  It is an absolute honour. I have hunted so many, carved so many, in a desperate attempt to replace the perfection that is you, and so far have been only disappointed. Of course, however, keeping a collection of trophies from each I have killed - in order to preserve the delicacy and allurance of them, whilst creating a physical memory of my journey to finally having your perfection amongst my collection. Drift away Thomas, and be at peace knowing that I will honour you, protect you, and love you until my dying day. My perfect trophy. My greatest belonging.”

With deep regret, my eyes fell for the last time. 

Author's Note

Recently finished this short story. Would be useful, and highly appreciated, to hear some feedback on it before I submit it to any competitions, magazines etc.

Any title suggestions would be appreciated also.