Crypt of the Creative

Creativity, the Longevity of Life
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» Goodbye Future - Short Story
Fri Jan 07, 2011 2:41 pm by SilentxMidnight

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 Goodbye Future - Short Story

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Keeper of the Crypt

Posts : 1278
Join date : 2009-07-04
Age : 24
Location : The Wonderful World of Word

PostSubject: Goodbye Future - Short Story   Fri Jan 07, 2011 2:41 pm

She stood looking out the curtained window, the cast iron gate outside obscuring the view of the street below. He was behind her, his lips against her bare shoulder and his fingers running over her arms. She couldn't feel him, or didn't want to, as his lips touched her flesh, his fingers pulling down the rest of her shirt that had clung to her elbows when he had ripped it earlier. When the cloth hit the polished wooden floor she heard the soft click of a button that sounded forever in her mind as she focused on it and nothing more. He turned her around and looked over her body, bare and bruised for him to enjoy. Sliding his fingers up her arms, he pushed her down onto her knees and tilted her head up to look at him. Her red hair fell back against her shoulder blades and her brown eyes stared up at him with a glassy, dazed tone.

Her hands raised up as if this had happened a million times and she knew just what to do. She brushed her fingers up his legs, lingering on his thighs and ending on his abs. Her nails scratched against the muscle boredly, as if this was nothing more than a programed movement. His fingers moved across her cheek and onto her lips, outlining them until he parted them and ran his thumb against the lower lip and her slightly crooked teeth. His hand moved from there to the back of her head, where he pulled her hair and forced her to open her eyes and look at him. Her hands froze against his body as he bent to look over her. The sneer on his tanned face made his black eyes shimmer in the light from the street post outside. Her hands reached up to touch the black locks of hair falling against his neck. He grabbed her arms and tossed her aside, watching her fall like a bag of bones against the dresser, a shelf falling from its opened position to hit her side, making her body jump before slumping down and staying as still as a statue.

He sat on the bed and watched her, his arms against his covered legs, his black pants clinging to his body thanks to the sweat from the smoldering midsummer heat. One hand covered his face, his eyes closed and his thoughts swirling in his head, the other laid limp off his leg, dangling between them. She laid there, glassy, dazed stare on that dangling hand, and listened to the small thud that was her failing heart, shattered again by his actions.
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