Portrait of Death

She was lying there, bleeding to her death. Blood was oozing from her throat which was sliced perfectly in a surgical manner. Her eyes were filled with horror, face pale from the sudden shock of what happened a few minutes ago. I was sitting on a chair nearby, watching her lovingly, admiring her glowing skin decorated with blood and watching her endlessly. Everytime I stared into those blue eyes dead with horror, I could see myself killing her over and over again. Like a thousand times in my head. And I could not get enough of her. I knew I would regret it later when I will come to my senses, but that didn’t matter to me at the moment. I was fully engrosed in the action, feeding off her pain.

I enjoyed feeling masculine when I grabbed her from the back, my powerful hands failing her every attempt to break free. I felt elated when she screamed in pain as I was performing my surgery on her soft skin, the blade running deep into her skin, blood glowing in the moonlight. I viewed the blood on my hand in moonlight which was dancing in the room through the window. It appeared black. The thought of life draining from her body aroused me. It was like a heavy dose of cocain and I was craving for more.

Those beautiful blue eyes. Aah! I still remember when I looked into them for the first time. I remember it just like yesterday. I was sipping my coffee when she caught my attention. Dressed in blue, she entered the cafe. Well, she was not the type to take your breath away, but I knew that moment that I wanted to be with her, to feel her gentle touch, to feel my hands on her fair skin, to taste her lips. “Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here? The place is full and I am unable to find a seat.”, she asked coming up to me. Oh sweet! Such a melodious voice she had. So humble, so pleasing, so soothing. I looked up my cup, stared into those eyes that were looking at me and the whole world froze, time stopped for me, I was lost in that moment, drowing in those blue eyes deep like ocean. “Yes, sure. Please. Here, let me help you with your bags.”, I said putting down my cup and rising from my chair to help settle her shopping bags. She pulled up a chair and rested herself. My eyes were glittering with happiness, I just couldn’t believe my luck. God’s blessing had fell right into my lap!

I was perspirating. Her lifeless body was lying there drenched in blood. The blood was smeared on the floor as if an artist had given it a magical touch with his brush strokes. This was my aphrodisiac, my drug, something I wished to have day and night. She was lying motionless, completely silent never to speak again. I would never hear her melodious voice again whispering my name seductively. She would never bother me again with her talks, asking me to this or that, trying to change the real me. Ughh! Focus! I was trying to enjoy a death here. Damn!

“I need a mirror. Shit! Where is a mirror? Aah! There you are”, I streched out my hand into nothingness, trying to grab hold of a mirror which was never there. I stared at myself with a proud face, like a soilder returned from war, a veteran. All I could see was darkness, greed, a demon hiding inside me. The devil was hovering over me shining its darkness. My hands were stained with her blood, eyes as dark as that of Satan. I caught her glimpse in the imaginary mirror, her dead body was lying in the corner. Though she had died with a shock, I felt relaxed to imagine she must be in someplace peaceful, free from the darkness, temptations and sins of this world.

The fan on the ceiling was glowing, don’t know why. I was not even sure if the fan was glowing or was it a hallucination of my mind, an illusion I wished to be true, a trick my mind was playing to let me fly in my vivid imagination away from this reality. I felt her face with my bare hands. She was gone now. Forever.

“Oh my god! What have I done? How could I do this? No, this is not real. None of this is. I didn’t do this! No!”, I screamed. No one could hear me, I had made sure of that. It was just me and her lifeless body. There was no one she could call out to for help. And now there was no one who could hear me. I stood up, panicking. My legs were trembling, hands shaking. I was not able to hold anything in my hand. No! This can’t be possible. I am in a dream, like Inception or something. I slapped myself hard, repeatedly, trying to wake myself up. Nothing happened.

I was drenched in sweat. The blood which I was licking off from my hands was now like poison. I saw my reflection in the blood that was spilled all over the floor, it was of pure evil. I saw myself as a demon, a descendant of hell, rising from the ashes of whatever humanity I had, whatever human I was. I got up to leave the place. It was getting wierder every second I spent with her dead body. With her who used to make me feel alive whenever I ran my fingers on that smooth skin.

I turned around to run but slipped on the blood, my own work. I fell on my back. My head banged on the ground. I was in pain. I guess I broke my back too during the fall. I tried to rise but was unable to. My feet slipped on the blood I so artistically displayed all over the floor. I started crawling towards the door. My head was pounding with pain, as if someone had struck me with a hundred pound hammer with its full impact. And I was crawling, like an insect flapping its wings trying to escape the spider’s web.

The knife I used was on the table and by the time I realised it I found myself right below it. A blow of wind from the window knocked it down and the knife fell right on me, piercing through my throat. I screamed in pain, unable to move with a knife passing through my throat. Blood erupted like lava from a volcano. I was lying there, trying to spit the blood filling my esophagus. I was suffocating. I was kicking my feet in the air, throwing my arms in all directions. My eyes were filled with tears from the pain I was experiencing. Finally, I rested my body. My hands which were so energetic were now dead. My mind which portrayed me as the devil was now dead. My eyes were filled with regret and horror. My body was cold. I was lying in a pool of blood. I suffocated to death in my own blood. I freed myself from the darkness, temptation and sins of this world and flew away to someplace peaceful where I would be reunited with her. To again kill her a thousand times in my head until I get enough of her.

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8 thoughts on “Portrait of Death

  1. Anothr thumbs up junior.! πŸ˜ŠπŸ‘ŒπŸ‘
    Two questions for yu.! who ws d girl for whom yu wrote dis.!? πŸ˜‚
    second .. imagine dis story as a mOvie wid hero tushaar kapoor and sunny leone.! πŸ˜‚ ragini mms 4 πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚
    bdw on a serious note.! a gud one again.! nd one advice .. dnt b too fictionous.. sumtym it goes lyk a bouncer.! πŸ˜€πŸ˜›

    Liked by 1 person

  2. A blow of wind from the window knocked it down and the knife fell right on me, piercing through my throat. Are you sure that was a knife? I mean a real knife?. Try being more realistic…you have to work a lot…i mean a lot…

    Liked by 1 person

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