Posted in Life and After

The Sadist

First line suggested by Lucinda E Clarke

Tomorrow I am going to kill Caroline, but I can’t decide how to take her life away.

I can always bite her head off…the thought was repulsive, so obviously, I relished it. I run through the scene in my mind where I bite off different parts of her head one-by-one, leaving the nose, of course, since she has nose allergy which keeps it permanently runny.

But honestly, once I bite any part of her, she would snap and throw me out of the room. I need a more plausible scenario. Maybe I’ll pick up a fight with that mad dog in the backstreet to get rabies and then bite her.

But what’s the point of revenge if I don’t live to enjoy it? I rack my brains again. What if I push her overboard when she offers to take me on a flight around the place? I’ll make sure she lands on something hard.

But then, who will steer? I hardly have the physical faculties needed for a safe landing. Well, maybe I’ll just bite off the twigs from her broomstick and then decline to go with her. Then her broomstick will surely crash and Dad will never go on a date with her. And he will never forget to feed me…

How could he forget to feed me? An overwhelming sadness engulfs me that has nothing to do with food and everything to do with losing the only man I ever loved…

The soft click of the window handle startles me. Dad glides in on his broomstick. But, how? He was only gone 15 minutes. Didn’t he say he’ll be out all night? Not that I’m complaining…

“Caroline was asking about you, Darling. She sent me right back when I admitted having forgotten your dinner.” He hugs and pets me, pours kibbles and fresh fish in my bowl and leaves on his broomstick again.

Maybe I’ll let Caroline live after all…

Advertisement
Posted in Life and After

Trudging Along

path-1031114_640

I walk in the woods, my eyes seeing red, literally. My anger is spilling out in waves. The swishing sound she leaves behind her makes me grit my teeth.

Why does she have to sound so graceful even now, while I crush the leaves under my feet?

Why could I never be like her? People stop to admire her when she enters a room while I move in her shadow, forever unnoticed and ignored.

Even Papa…

Well, she isn’t pretty anymore with the glass pieces and blood on her face. I drag her in the ravine, finally at peace.


Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

Posted in Life and After

Poetry: Chained

I am chained to you, my enemy…

 

Every day, I writhe and groan

My face an angry mask.

Beast rises with every pain

That ever came to pass.

 

I look in the mirror

And claw and tear,

I so wish you were dead

I’m close to tears.

 

Tug at the chains

And wish them begone,

Only to find

It’s not what I want.

 

I cry out in rage

And repeat,

Clawing at the mirror,

My nails bleed.

 

“Curse you! I will make you pay,

For reliving hell every day.”

Obsessed I wait to see

You grovel at my feet.

 

Then, I plaster a smile,

Pretending all is fine,

While I am still chained to you

Every second of my day,

My enemy…