The Morgue: Sullen

Morgue Story #1

There's smoke everywhere. The heat is rising, the orange glow engulfing everything in it's path, inching closer and closer. Where can I go? Where do I go? Panic sets in, there's no air. With a last gasp, I scream for him.

I died that day. The fire that started my journey into a life of pure, intimate and grotesque bliss. There was just one thing I missed. Him. The blue eyes that caught my attention all those years ago. The dragon that climbed up his arm. The tiger that growled from his chest. Everything that gave me chills; that made my body ache with anticipation when he called to tell me he was on his way. The curve of his smile, the dimples on his face... My cold cheeks would get flushed just thinking about him.

I watch him from my dark corner, saying his goodbyes as my casket inches towards the flames. I hope he doesn't collect those ashes. It's just cherry wood and kindle. There's nothing of me in there. My family and friends gathered, some I have not seen in years, some I saw just two weeks ago. How nice of them. I feel loved all over again. If my heart could pump I'm sure I would be red with flattery.

His head turns towards me, but does not catch my image. He stares into the dark corner with intense blue eyes. He knows I'm here. I want to reach out to him, pull him back to my new home with me. But not yet. The time will come. My new blue eyes stare through his. I can feel his heart racing, sweat forming on his forehead. He's nervous. He shouldn't be. Not with me. I close my eyes and give him some relief, whispering into his mind: "I'm here." I open my eyes and he is gone. I hear his footsteps hurrying out of the room. I have scared him.

...

I know I'm not supposed to go back, but I can't just leave him alone. I watch him from the window. My pale skin glows in the moonlight, as I observe his nightly routine. He's now slower, like he has no urgency left in him. There is no point to his routine. There is no one in the bed waiting for him, just an urn full of wood chips on the shelf across from him. My body was snatched hours before my cremating, turned into a creature of the Morgue, joining my best friend and my darling sister. But I want more. I watch him sleep for hours, thinking up my plan to make him mine for eternity.

...

Midnight strikes on the clock above our slabs. All doors open, and the night begins. I slither out, knowing my stiff limbs' movements more than I knew my alive, fluid motions. Tonight is the night. I have permission. I have a double slab waiting. Tonight is the night.

I know all the crevices of this house. The alarm system never worked properly. The cats are upstairs in their beds. He is on his side of the bed, facing the door, always half asleep. My black dress clings to the stairs behind me as I silently creep up. My toes sink into the familiar, beige rug, the softness makes this all the more real. I reach our bedroom door, touching the brass handle softly and turning. The door swings open and there he is, already sat up in bed, searching the darkness for something to come and attack him. I smile and toss an envelope down in the centre of the rug and turn, making my exit.

...

In the centre of the cemetery, I watch him walk towards the mausoleum. He came after all. I knew he would, but he looks anxious. He looks at the note, instructed to find the door on the side and enter. He's hesitating. He's second guessing. I silently urge him inside. "I am here," I whisper in my own head, hoping he will hear me. I watch him walk in my direction.

The door opens with a creak as he pokes his head in. I watch him from the couch in the corner with interest, noticing how invisible I feel as he looks right passed me. I can smell him from where I sit; the familiar scent of aftershave and old spice. I lift my lit cigarette to my lips, the burning tip glowing in the dark. He see's me at last, he looks scared. But why? I stand before him, my legs unfolding from under me with unreal ease and walk towards him. He backs up, edging for the door, but it slams shut behind him. I am now in front of him, so close I can smell his fear through his skin. "Don't worry, my love. I would never hurt you," I whisper inches from his ear. His body does not relax, his breathing does not slow down. I make eye contact, wanting him to feel my blue eyes pour into his, maybe then he will calm down. The already dim lights get darker, suddenly it's just him, I, and our breathing. I hear his heart racing, his blood pumping, he's only making this harder on himself...

"You have a choice," I whisper to him as his eyes adjust to the darkness around him. He stares at me, not knowing what is going on. Is he dreaming? Is he dead? None of this is true. This is now his reality. "You can leave, and I will never see you again, or you can stay with me forever." I look into his soul. He's deciding. I know he's missed me, but I know that no one really wants to die. He grabs me, tighter than he has in a long time. He's made his choice.

In a swift instant, I slit his throat. He does not fight me, nor does he let me go. I hold him and wait as his warmness spreads along the floor, dripping over me with eagerness. He drops, bringing me to the floor with him, never letting go as he leaves the world of the living. I call for Mortician, bring the back up, let's get this done. Let's make him mine again.

...

He is placed on our slab, a double wide just for us. The stitching in his throat will leave a pretty scar. He knows I always loved his scars. His skin is now a milky white, slightly darker than my own, the embalming fluid coursing through his body, keeping him pristine. I lay down with him, stroking my hand over his freshly buzzed hair. He's mine forever.