Assassinated

This is part of a story I intended to write... then forgot about :P

The darkness ripped through her flesh, tore her limb from limb, eviscerated her organs as she cried tears of the deepest and most shadowed shade of crimson. Each tear left a gentle, ephemeral, trail down her once snow-pale cheeks. Her icy blue eyes bore into the face of darkness and saw only sorrow that pierced through her heart unlike any of the tormenting pain she had suffered before and after these short, yet endless, moments.

 

“Why...” Her heart pleaded, her thoughts cursed, “why...” it echoed through her in spasms as her body, maimed and marred, became nothing more then food for gathering birds of prey. Blood, so dark against her ghostly, scattered flesh, pooled and glowed under the light of the full moon.

 

“I told you, by the night of silver, you would know love's true face for the mask once worn would be tossed aside, the masquerade having ended for midnight has come to reveal all.” He said as he smiled in a way that even the cruelest demon could not fathom. The shadows of the night encompassed his form like a satin cloak, all she could perceive was his majestic face that used to bring her body such blazing heat and desire, but now only rendered her cold and fragile.

 

No sound escaped her lips as the light faded from her eyes and death pulled her into it's icy clasp, holding tight and never letting go. His fiendish figure faded into the darkest shadows and disappeared into the ill-begotten night as she lay lifeless within the warmth of her blood and entrails. The birds that gathered clawed and pecked each other for the warmest and largest pieces of her mangled body, ripping what was left into nothingness, yet filling their own bellies with the greatest warmth they could, as of yet, feel.

 

But she would know no difference, to whether she was clawed and eaten by vultures, hawks, or falcons; she could not care anymore. She stood now at Death's obsidian arch, and looked into an empty blackness that would be her afterlife. She had killed far too many at far too great a pleasure to herself to ever be allowed the comfort and joy of light. Her existence was now and forever withheld in the darkest shadows of the afterlife, where the greatest light and joy she had ever known had sent her for her sins.

 

“Hell,” she thought, “would be a fate much preferred to this. At least it would be warm and I could see.” So that even in her afterlife, despite the dark, despite the cold and the dank and the dreary, she could still laugh upon it. For to her, this was yet another world that she would survive till she could move no more. Life had been so cruel to her, that not even the afterlife could dampen her spirits. For what could dampen the spirits of someone with whom spirit and joy had only existed long enough to take away all hope she had received?

 

She could not blame love though; for love had given the greatest bliss alongside the greatest sorrow. Although she would suffer for eternity, those few precious moments that she stood in the light of the sun were all she could have ever desired in life. What had been missing for so long was returned, and even in the darkness she entered as she stepped through Death's obsidian archway, she smiled the most radiant smile that would make even the sun seem dim.

 

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He returned. No flesh was left, the bones picked clean. She was gone. The blood was dry, the ground stained scarlet. She was finally gone. He looked into the dried blood, and laughed. His laughter carried into the night as the most joyful, and most sorrowful. He laughed. Tears framed his cheeks, falling to the ground, to the blood.

 

As he fell to his knees, he wept. He hated himself. He loved her. He wanted her back. He didn't care what price he must pay, only if to have her back, to feel her warmth, one more time. He didn't know when he came to love her, or how; he knew he did and that was all.

 

He remembered how she always gently kissed his neck a single time before they parted. They only were together by night. By day, she slept; by day, he was an apprentice to a craftsman. By night, they were together; bodies entwined in such insatiable passion.

 

He loved her, and how he despised himself. He loved her and he killed her. He killed her. She cried. He killed her with an empty face. His love was lost. He lost her. She was gone forever. He killed her. His love, his dream.

 

She killed his parents, his sister. She took away his home, his life, his happiness. He sought revenge, he sought her soul. He loved her. He loved her so much he hated himself. He wouldn't, couldn't, love someone like her! She was a demon, her heart was black and her blood ran as ice. No one existed worse than her. But with him... with him! She was an angel, her smile brought warmth in the dead of winter. How he loved her...

 

But, he killed her.

Author's Note

I haven't edited this, so there may be some grammar errors and such. Also, sorry for the spacing, I copy/pasted this from a word doc.

Reviews

[Britt Foster]

Wow, I really liked this piece. It's exactly what I was looking for in my contest, and I really enjoyed it! Very beautiful and very dark and bloody at the same time. I felt like I was there, like I could see and feel everything the characters were seeing and feeling. I love the whole LOVE aspect of it, too. How he kills her for revenge and then hates himself for it..

Magnificent. :]

[Dusk's Dream. Dawn's Ho..]

GREAT!!!!!! I loved it, I felt like I was actually IN the story...are you going to write anymore to it?????