Reader. Writer. Romantic.

Posts tagged ‘murder’

Blood red Lies

She arrived home, flicking on the light. It was late. She was tired. It had been a long day. The meeting had dragged on longer than anyone expected. The last thing she wanted to think about was finding a new place to stay. The lease was up in two days…they would be kicking her out in two days. There just wasn’t enough time. There never was anymore.

Tonight she had been less careful than she had been in the past. She didn’t notice that he had followed her again. And this time she led him straight home.

She sat down at the kitchen table with her head in her hands. What was she going to do? What could she do? How could she afford a new place now? Oh why did this have to come at such a bad time? She stood and put the kettle on and put a spoonful of tea leaves into the cup, sitting back down.

It had been a long time since she felt the tears burning in the back of her eyes, trying to break through to the surface. A knock came at the door, surprising her. Who could be calling on her at such an hour? She rose, in a sleep deprived trance and opened the door.

“Hi,” he greeted timidly.

She stared at him in shock, then swore.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

She shook her head, “It’s not a good time…not now…please…just go, just leave me alone.”

“Please,” he begged.

She shook her head again, but was too tired to resists as he pushed his way in.

“What do you want?” she asked closing the door behind him.

“Just to talk,” he said simply.

“You never just want to talk,” she said dryly.

He shrugged, “Well I do and what ever it is you believe you is irrelevant.”

“Fine, what the fuck do you want to fucking talk about?” she started.

He laughed coldly, “I don’t think you should be talking to me that way.”

She rolled her eyes, but apologized, “Can you just say your piece? I’m tired and need to get some sleep.”

“Or some time to mull things over?” he snickered, “I know your lease expires in two days.”

She looked at him in alarm, how the hell did he know that?

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that hard to figure out,” he said.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “But what’s that to you?”

“I dunno, maybe you could stay with me for a while?” he suggested.

She snorted, “Yeah right.”

He gave her a half smile, “Why do you keep pretending not to like me? Why do you keep pretending not to like it?”

“Look I’ve got a reputation to maintain,” she started.

“Yeah? And I don’t? Even if we live together, it’s not like the world is sudden gonna know every little detail of your personal life,” he interrupted.

“It’s not that I don’t like you,” she said trying to take a different route.

“We all know that you can’t get enough of me,” he said, “You can keep pretending that you have other options, but the truth is that you don’t. You’re cornered like a hunted deer, you have nowhere left to go in your sad pitiful life. So stop pretending you’re better than me. I have options, but I want you, so what does that say about us?”

Her eyes flashed angrily, “You don’t think I have other options? Where’s your evidence?”

“Well, for one, if you don’t have a place to live, how do you think you’re gonna keep holding onto that job you got there?” he smirked.

“I can handle myself,” she said defiantly.

“I don’t think so,” he said slamming her into a wall.

He trailed his hands down along her body and felt it shiver in pleasure. He grinned.

“What are you doing?” she asked with some difficulty.

“What your body wants,” he responded.

She grabbed his collar suddenly and dragged him off towards her bedroom.

***

The next morning she woke up next to him covered in blood wondering what happened last night. She nudged him slightly, he lay there motionless.

“Hey!” she called a little louder, shaking him.

Still he didn’t respond. A loud knock came at the door startling her.

“Police, open up,”

She panicked, stuffing him under the bed with the bloodied sheets. She dressed to cover the blood on her body and went to answer the door.

“Hello officers, how can be of assistance to you?” she answered amicably.

“Miss Quinn?” asked one.

“Yes,” she nodded, repeating her question, “Is there a problem officers?”

“Neighbours reported tortured screams coming from your apartment,” stated the other.

“Oh, my apologies…my partner and I were simply…roleplaying. We didn’t mean to disturb anyone,” she lied.

“Oh? And where is your partner currently?” questioned the first.

“Working. He had to leave early this morning,” she lied again.

“What’s his name?” asked the other, pen poised over a small notebook.

“Gerald,” she said, pulling a name from thin air, “Lorde, I think is his last name.”

He noted the name and continued, “And when does Mr. Lorde typically return? We’d like to speak with him to corroborate the story.”

“He’s on a business trip, so let me see…today’s Wednesday, so he should be back either late Thursday or early Friday,” she said.

“Alright, we will call again on Friday,” said the first, “Does that suit you?”

She nodded, “Certainly. He will most certainly corroborate my story.”

“Well thank you for your time, Miss Quinn,” smiled the officer.

She closed the door and turned around releasing a sigh of relief, but her joy was short lived. Behind her he stood waiting with a hatchet. Before she could scream he started hacking at her face.

“This is for not loving me,” he said fiercely, “And this is for using me.”

He hacked her to bits, stowing her under the bed like she had done to him earlier. Satisfied with his handy work he left through the front door, locking it with a copy the key he had had made earlier.

A tribute to Hannibal

The scent of rotting carcasses filled the air as I stood amidst them. It was glorious, beautiful, an expression of my unrecognized talent. In life they were nothing. They were only common folk, but in death I elevated them to art. I carefully made sure that each actor and actress was in his or her place, taking care not to leave any evidence behind.

Art was not merely a visual experience, not art was a visceral response, an auditory response, a full sensory response. I would make it so. Looking at the bodies entertwined, becoming one as the flowers bloomed around them was overwhelming. After months of cultivation, my garden was almost done. All it needed were some guests, music and food. I would take care of all that soon.

The smell of rotting carcasses was a bit off putting, but it was the price I had to pay for such genius. I looked around and wondered if he would be among the police to see and hear my serenade to him. I loved him, but he didn’t know me. I wasn’t important. Expendable even. But that didn’t matter. Not anymore. I just wanted him to know. To know this was all for him.

I went inside the truck and brought out prosciutto roses made from human leg cured for eight months, heart tartar, flamingo tongue, foie gras among other delicacies. I carefully arranged them on the table I had set in on the carcass cobblestone I had created. I put some flowers in a vase, poured some wine.

I hoped the FBI agents would show up. They would be a lovely addition to my art piece. The final touch to this masterpiece. They were the guests of honour.

*******************************************************************************************************

From my hiding place I watched them come. Come to see their colleagues dead and set into my masterpiece. A soft breeze floated through and the scent of the garden and carcasses mingled and I saw him lean in to inspect the food. I saw a small smile creep onto his face and it was satisfaction enough. I carefully snuck away. Until I could no longer hear the music and then I ran. I ran without stopping. Almost forgetting to breathe. I just kept going. The only thing on my mind was to get home. To destroy all the evidence there.

They would never find me, but I had to make sure. I would burn it all. Burn everything down.

And disappear.

I knew it was going to be hard. But this was my final masterpiece, it had to be overwhelming.

All the work I had put into it, it had drained me. All I could think about was laying down somewhere to sleep. Just to close my eyes and drift away.

But no. Not before my work was done. I still had lots to do. There was no time to be thinking about sleeping.

But I was so tired. It was so easy just to forget all my obligations. To forget all the demands I had on me. It was so easy to say good bye as there was no one left.

I wanted him to know what I had done for him. I couldn’t destroy everything yet. The fire would bring me too much attention. I had to see him first. To let him know. And then say good bye.

*********************************************************************************************************

“Good evening,” he greeted me, “Please come in, Miss Carter.”

“Thank you, Dr. Lecter,” I smiled.

Once the door was securely closed behind me. I took a seat, a deep breath and began.

I spilled to him my story, recounted every last detail, studying his face as I told him.

“They’ll catch you,” he commented.

I shook my head, “You don’t understand. They won’t catch me. There’s nothing there to incriminate me.”

“But I have the obligation to inform the police,” he said.

I smiled, “Not if you value your secret. I know. I’ve seen you work. And with great finesse. I admire you. It was my serenade. My good bye.”

He smiled and thanked me, not quite understanding the crazy person before him.

“I’m sure you’ve had fans. Imitators, people so willing to claim credit to your work,” I said, “I didn’t want to do that. It would have been an insult to your talent. I hope you enjoyed a taste of my work, but I’m going to sleep now and I don’t think I shall ever wake.”

“Would you like some help?” he offered.

I crinkled my nose, “Would I be imposing?”

He shook his head, “Let us create one final masterpiece. Your greatest masterpiece.”

************************************************************************************************************

“This will help,” he said, injecting something into my blood stream.

“What is it?” I mumbled.

“A sedative,” he answered cryptically.

“Thank you,” I said.

I felt myself drifting off.

“Don’t forget the fire,” I mumbled one last time.

I saw him nod as my eyes closed.

***********************************************************************************************************

They found me just the way he left me. On the kitchen table carved up like a roast. The table was set for two. Candles and roses adorned the charred table and the sweet scent of lilacs filled the room. He had come back after to set it just the way I had asked. A soft melody greeted the crime scene processing team. He was with them and did so well to keep that smile off his face, but this was his masterpiece too.

Our masterpiece.

Something we were both proud to call our own. I would never forget him. And I know that he would never forget me.

 

Prompt: The scent of rotting carcasses filled the air.

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