Tug of war

I have grown tired of playing
This backwards game of tug of war
Somehow no matter who pulls the hardest
No matter who pulls the least
I always land flat on my ass
Wiping dirt from my knees
I can never keep them clean
This constant game that we play
I push
You pull
It’s all in good fun
You are my trigger
I am your gun
I pull
You run
My hand is a loser
You seem to have won

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Love In Death

She lies there and listens to the foot steps getting closer.  There’s a sudden flash of darkness underneath the doorway.  Frightened and alone she crawls under her bed.  The sound of his boots on the hardwood get closer, louder.  They sound so close the fear begins to sink in under her skin.  The door opens ever so slowly, without a sound.  She watches from under the bed as he walks around it.  She is silent.  Holding her breath with all of her strength, knowing that if he finds her it will be her last.  He doesn’t stay long, continuing his search down the hall in her brother’s room.

She listens.  Waiting until the sound of each step gets further away. Breathing out, she catches a scream before it makes it past her lips.  Crawling out from under that mattress she has a plan.
Her window is open a crack, so she crawls quietly over to the sill and pulls her shaken body up.  As she peers out through the glass, something catches her eye. Unsteadily she turns around gripping tightly to the window sill to find the man standing in her doorway.  He dashes across the room as she tries to climb out the window.  When all of a sudden the room goes black.

A feeling of cold washes over her, opening her eyes to nothing but darkness.  The air is thick and pungent.  The smell of death is in the vicinity but without a light to see, there is no telling what direction it is coming from.  She tries to move but her hands are bound.  Is this it?  Is this the end for her?  She begins to kick furiously, hoping someone will hear her.  What was that sound? Her heart starts pumping at the sound of footsteps.  The light comes on and her eyes close.  It is so bright that it stings.  She reopens them slowly letting them adjust to the light so she can see who is there.

A shadowy figure covers her like an umbrella blocking out the sun.  All she can see is the fire in his eyes, and she knows now that this is her hell.  He bends down over her, his face still enveloped by his shadow.  Reaching out he touches her face with rough gritty hands.  The smell of dirt and rusted metal on his fingertips.  Horrified, she turns her head away.  His gentle touch quickly turns into anger as he grabs her face with his ogre like hand and pulls her up within an inch of his.  She closed her eyes once more.  His fiery breath warming her neck, and the sickly sweet smell coming out of his mouth made her gag.

The smell of infection riddled her sinuses, throwing her off guard.  He drops her back to the floor.  As she hits she rolls onto her side.  Her view no longer blocked from the light, she can see everything in the room.  Bodies of young girls strewn across the floor, naked and bloodied.  A lifeless vision of what is to be her future as well.  The man laughs at her as if this is all a big joke.  She wasn’t amused, she was scared half to death.  By the looks of it she wasn’t far from it either.  He grabs her feet and drags her through the bodies. She screams as she bumps into each young tortured woman.  Never had she imagined things like this existed, such a naive girl.  He takes her into an empty room, well empty besides a lamp and a single hook hanging from the ceiling.  He forces her to undress, she’s resistant all the way through.  He hits her, knocking her to the ground.  Grabs her by her ankles and wraps a rope snugly around them.

Lifting her up, he places her ankles up onto the hook and left her hanging upside down.  At this point her tears have stopped flowing and her hopes are forgotten.  She knows the inevitability of the situation so she doesn’t fight it.  The man pulls out his knife and grazes her bare skin with it.  Teasing her  and taunting her.  She’s ready, she’s never been more ready for anything in her life.  Relief flows over her as he makes his first slice.  Slowly and precise he cuts under her left breast.  Using her blood like finger paints to draw hearts on her stomach.  He holds her hand while he makes his next cut, as if they were in it together.

They were in it together, in a sense.  This moment was theirs and no one elses.  A memorable one at that.  Her complexion fades but her heart still beats.  Not for much longer though, her time is almost here.  This is usually his favorite part, watching the life fade from their eyes, but hers doesn’t fade.  Her eyes are brighter and more lovely than ever.  She is ready for this.  Gripping onto his hand as if forever was seconds away, she whispers goodbye.  He kisses her cheek  and whispers it back.  He gracefully places the blade against her neck and slides it across.  The blood flows down her chin and over her lips and she had never been as beautiful as in this moment.

Sleep

I’ll just sleep it off
Is what I always say
But today is like every other
They all are the same
To look beyond
What shows before me
Is more than I can do
To look within
Is something more
For me to do for you
Love thyself before all others
Is something I can’t do
You come first
Always have
In the name of me and you

Remains

I still hear your voice
Just a whisper riding the wind
And I can smell your scent
As it remains upon my skin
The taste of your final kiss
Lingers like poison on my tongue
Your touch so bitter sweet
It still makes me come undone
The blood, it flows
Even from your ice cold heart
Painting my everlasting love for you
Under this crimson river we shall part.
And this dirt beneath my nails
Is the only proof left to be found
As my love for you
Is buried deep beneath this ground

Forced Hand

This is a short story in response to Trifecta’s Writing Challenge

The story had to utilize the word Clean in it’s 3rd definition.

 

 

Sitting in the waiting area with her hands between her knees, trying to hide her shakes.  Nervously waiting for Officer Wilson to come and speak with her.  The door to his office opens and out he steps, motioning for her to go there, so she did.

“Hello Lucinda, have a seat right here” as Officer Wilson pulls out a chair for her.

“We need to talk about what happened yesterday, we have heard a few different stories and we need to clear them up.”

Slightly agitated she says “I told you what happened, I don’t know about any other story, but they are wrong.”

“Listen, your husband is dead Lucinda, you admit to stabbing him, but your story isn’t adding up.” Said the Officer harshly.

Lucinda begins to sob, the shaking had taken over her whole body at that point.  She had suffered at his hands for many years.  The unexplainable bruises, and broken bones were his doing.  Everyone in town knew it but said nothing.  Same beating different day.  That’s just how it was in their household, but yesterday was different for Lucinda, something was going through her head.  She suffered through the beating like usual. But this time she waited until her loving husband was fast asleep with the help from a bottle of Jack and she grabbed a knife out of the dish strainer.  She stabbed that knife through him over and over again, until the life in him was now running down her face.

“I had to do it, he would have eventually killed me if I didn’t.” Lucinda cried out. “I am sorry, but I had to, it was self defense.”

“Unfortunately Lucinda I will have to take you in and let a judge decide that, your record is clean as a whistle so he may take it easy on you. Come on, let’s go.” Wilson said as he cuffed her and lead her down the hall towards a cell.