DESOLATION: By Danielle Ferries
Tuesday, October 20th, 2009Frank’s pudgy fingers tightened around her slender neck as a last lingering breath left her traitorous body. Her once fiery amber eyes were sallow and lifeless as they bulged from their sockets, seeking release.
When he was sure she was dead he sat back on his heels and wiped his brow. She wasn’t getting away from him this time. No longer would she choose other men over him. Exhilaration coursed through his veins as what he’d done registered inside his head. Strength and confidence slowly returned and he hauled himself to his feet, standing over her body.
‘Got a nice spot for you,’ he grinned as he scooped her into his arms and carried her into his bedroom. He released her beside his bed and let her body slide to the floor. She hit the unpolished timber with a thud and he shook his head as he straightened the pillows.
‘Couldn’t wait for me to tidy up for you?’ he asked as he placed her carefully on the bed. ‘I hope you like it in here. I have a nice view of the lake.’ It was her first time in his bedroom and he hurried over to the window to open the curtains. Every other time he’d invited her she’d turned him down but now she could stay as long as he wanted her to.
He propped her up against the bed head and straightened her dress. Her scent lingered appetizingly in his nostrils and he leaned closer. Jasmine. Just like the bushes he’d planted outside his bedroom window.
He arranged her hair the way he liked her to wear it and poked the side of her mouth, trying to get her to smile. ‘You’re going to be happy here.’ His gaze dropped to the curve of her breasts, straining in the light cotton dress, and he sucked back the saliva that dribbled down his chin. His hand shook as he ran his thumb along her throat and down between her breasts. She’d only moved in next door a month ago and every time he tried to speak to her, she shut him down.
Sometimes she spoke to him, sometimes she just laughed in his face. Never did she come inside when he invited her. All he’d ever wanted was to play her a song, watch the expression on her face as the music soaked into her skin.
He sat down in the chair beside the bed and picked up his cello. ‘I think you’ll like this one. I wrote it just for you.’
© 2009 Danielle Ferries
Danielle Ferries lives in Brisbane, Queensland, and adores dark and dreary weather, wicked characters with fractured worlds, the perfect cup of coffee, gothic horror, collecting creepy dolls and Hitchcock. She has previously had work published in Darkened Horizons, Atrum Tempestas, Sinister Tales and an upcoming anthology with Tasmaniac Publications. You can find Danielle at www.danielleferries.blogspot.com.
