Just a short aka. I am bored

She fell to her knees as the distress of what said witnessed gripped her. The silence of the aftermath allow her to become distraught.
She glance up at the towering mostrosity who appeared to be glowering down at her. Surveying his distruction at the prefered vantage point.
Shaking, terrified, the woman involuntarily moved backwards, her pinned back fringe having come loose and fallen askew, onto her face.
Her hair was a mirror of the room. Pictures lay crumpled on the floor, vases shattered and the general furniture had been thrown into havoc. The normal lush, rich ambience of the room was as shattered as the glass in the photo frames.
In the crumpled rug, two limp limbs mutated to impossible angles. Not that it mattered.
She couldn’t bring herself to tear her eyes away from the looming shadow. She wouldn’t need to. No mortal can survive lead to the heart.
‘The little man thought he could play it rough with the big boys.’ A guff deep voice caused tremors in her bones. It was difficult to believe one person could cause another such fear.
‘We sure showed him. You fell in love with the wrong man missy.’ His dark demeanor infected his words. A quick glace to the rug, the dark blood glistening in the flickering candle light. The romantic dinner had started off brilliant…and gone downhill from them.
She wished she could say something, anything. But terror seemed to have stolen her voice when John’s heart was destroyed.
‘You know too much.’ Another loud bang ensured that Missy covered her head with her hands. Another one and she wondered why she was still hearing. Several loud footsteps began their retreat.
The warm glow of the candle embraced her face and caused her to open her eyes. The broken remnants of the luxious red wine-the colour of blood- soaked the floor and the jagged glass fragments jutted up like reflective bones. The top of the candle stick was close by, it’s flame not out surprisingly. Slowly, agonisingly slowly, the candle stick rolled down to the deep thick liquid. With a gasp and widened eyes, the realisation of death cut through the think emotion of melencholy that hung over her head like a blanket. Her husband was not forgotten, his death having injured her so badly all she wanted to do was cry, but she wasn’t going to give that monster the satisfaction.
However, instead of running, Missy stayed and watched the candle, believing her black dress was just so perfectly suited to this occasion.

Journal Comments

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