Le Canular

A "short story" i wrote for a class last year that I pulled out and re made into a work in progress, would really appreciate a review or some constructive critisism

Our little red house, on the corner of Smith and Wesson, was full of secrets. Stories of scandal ran down the blank streets, and we were the culprits, we were partners in crime, and I learned the truth. We were running scams, but she wasn't about to pay the price. Her eyes told a story I couldn't quite place a finger on.

Looking into her gunmetal eyes, I remembered back to the first time I saw her. Shadows of her silhouette dancing; her voice singing wonderful songs. Oh how she danced. From the moment I saw her, I knew she was the one.

“Daisy” she said, her voice like therapeutic needles piercing through my ears. “Like Buchanan only I’m not ashamed of anything I've done.” She laughed and it was contagious. Although I never knew why she was always laughing, like everything she said was a sick joke. She was elegant, a perfect prize to be won. She was extraordinary.

“Daisy?” Catching her attention she fell out of a daze. Sitting in our living room, reading books about Ralph and his Red Ryder. She turned reluctantly and spoke, “Who are you?” She asked softly, like rain falling from clouds of dust. “You know me”. Her grip tightened around the novel, slipping ever so slightly from the sweat in her palms.

“Tell me what I want to know.” She dropped the book. Her arms crossed like knives but the sun peaking through a crack in the shutters hit her straight. “You know me”. But she couldn't see.

“Daisy” the fog lifted from her eyes and she was taken back. “Tell me about the view Daisy.” The frustrated expression on Daisy’s face, suddenly turned to happy relief. The view from her family’s beach house she played at as a child brought a bright glistening ode to her stance. “The trees were like birds, and the ocean... it never stopped for a minute. Like a heartbeat it just kept going and going and…” Her stories, like her songs, were captivating.

“Daisy?” Pillowed voices and somber words brought her to life. She had a cold heart and warm eyes. She was only human on the outside, but behind her layers of skin, she was soulless; a frozen skeleton, no blood running through her veins.

“Tell me what I want to know” she begged.

“You already know.” I tried to convince her to spare my life, but the heat on the table was too appealing for her crying eyes.

“I know that I don’t want red hands.” Her words hit like a thousand bullets.

“Daisy”, this time she stopped listening. I was unrecognizable and in her hands and she held the trigger of our life. She was insane, absolutely crazy, and I loved her anyways because she was beautiful. Anyone would kill for her looks. Lord knows she did.