1. The Storm
Thunder crashed in the distance; a mere six seconds after a brilliant flash had split the sky in twain. He jumped; the sound startling him out of his somber reserve. He knew she was gone, truly he did, but it felt like she was still there; watching him, judging him. Why couldn’t the wretched whore just leave him be! Her fucking whispers never ceased to haunt him; even in his dreams he found no peace from those beady little eyes. Oh how he lusted to see them gouged out.
He wasn’t always so hateful; no he used to be a chipper little brat: young, naive, and oh so fucking happy; but then she came. That filthy fucking slut had fucked her way into the family; sliding up to his father; easily seducing the feeble minded fool who never saw her true colors. Her eyes were dark; a special kind of dark that seemed to dance with malice. He knew she was rotten from the very moment he laid eyes on her. He just never knew quite how right he was; not until it was far too late.
Now she was gone; and dear god he was elated. But even in death the miserable cur refused to give him even a moment's respite; it was driving him bleeding mad. The rain seemed to transmit her malevolent eyes a billion times over; warped by the twisting droplets just like her demented soul. She did not die peacefully. No, she went kicking and screaming into that dark night. She even bit his father right on the throat, took ‘im with ‘er to the blackness; the abyssal whore did.
She never quit her infernal screeching; not even in death. She always seemed to be watching him, those wretched eyes seemed to be everywhere he went. She was dead, why couldn’t she just leave him alone. ~CRASH!~ He tripped, his half-empty bottle shattering; glass shards driven into his palms as he tried futilely to stand, slipping in his own blood.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
He blearily looked around, blood flowing into his eyes from a laceration in his scalp, tinting his vision crimson. The woods seemed even more foreboding in this storm than it ever did on those placid nights so long ago; when he plotted her death from an old abandoned shack.
He was unfamiliar with this particular little slice of fucking nowhere; not that it mattered, here was just as good as anywhere after all. Damned but the booze did not help his bleeding flesh, maybe if he had shelled out the extra coin for some decent, Russian vodka instead of that cheap American shit he would feel better to have alcohol injected directly into his veins.
He smiled, blood staining his teeth as he pulled a particularly large fragment out of his wrist. He looked around ”What a miserable place to die,” He thought, bringing the shard to his eye “But who cares, it’s just as good as anywhere else to spite you, bitch!” He laughed into the empty darkness, a flash of lightning his only response. The long piece of shrapnel went through his optic nerve before it was stopped by his skull, the glass breaking inside his likely diseased flesh.
The psychotic smile that split his face attested to his palpable lack of sanity, even as he carved it larger with a kitchen knife he had pulled from between his ribs; where it had lodged itself during his lovely trip.
As maddened laughter and the sound of tearing flesh filled the night, drowned out by pouring rain and crashing thunder; the moon stared down, all-seeing and uncaring. Its light glittering off of dark eyes that danced with malice.