Fiction - Journal de tueur en série
Sunday, November 04, 2007
(Fiction) Journal de tueur en série (diary of a serial killer)
Disclaimer - This may feel dark/gloomy so all happy go lucky are advised not to read further.
He had suddenly woken up, sweating all over, heart pounding like a heavy hammer; he thought he could feel every drop of blood being gushed in his veins. His mind took a smothering quick review of the ambiance, his eyes darting from one end to another; it was all normal. With a heavy suspire he brought his trembling hand to wipe off the sweat off his temple. He felt as if his face had swollen a bit in the sea of sweat.
His eyebrows tensed as he sneaked a view on his left. There she was, lying as calm in her sleep as a toddler, he sipped on to the whiff of her hair and closed his eyes to let it fill his lungs. Then slowly he opened his eyes and took a look at nowhere, deeply lost thinking about nothing.
His eyes again slipped on her face, he slided on the bed as his torso bent over her flower fresh flawless body. A tress of her hair ran across her face touching her lips, the veil of which just made them all the more desirable. A long trail of a dried river of tears contoured her shapely cheeks, the once wet eyelashes had got entangled between themselves as the fingers of two lovers holding on to each other. He slowly lifted the tress to put it aside as if it was obstructing the shine of the Kohinoor. His heart slipped a beat or two and a smirk filled his face. His hands slowly glided down and touched the waist of her and with same slowness came back to him as he turned slowly to look at me. His smirk just got wider and wider, and the blood on his hands made it all the more ghastly!
I woke up , sweating profusely all over, heart pounding like a heavy hammer; I could feel every drop of blood being gushed in my veins. My mind took a smothering quick review of the ambiance, my eyes darting from one end to another; just that it was not normal.
It had been an harrowing dream since that blood clad summer. I had been happily married to an angel and we had the best of what life could have offered to us; all to be taken back by destiny when a serial killer had struck our home. He had been caught, sentenced to death and been erased off the memories everyone maybe, but not me. But I had done a sin greater than his, I had read his diary, where he had written about the cold murder.
End Note: Can you carry the story further? If yes, write it in the comments
Image credits:Disclaimer - This may feel dark/gloomy so all happy go lucky are advised not to read further.
He had suddenly woken up, sweating all over, heart pounding like a heavy hammer; he thought he could feel every drop of blood being gushed in his veins. His mind took a smothering quick review of the ambiance, his eyes darting from one end to another; it was all normal. With a heavy suspire he brought his trembling hand to wipe off the sweat off his temple. He felt as if his face had swollen a bit in the sea of sweat.
His eyebrows tensed as he sneaked a view on his left. There she was, lying as calm in her sleep as a toddler, he sipped on to the whiff of her hair and closed his eyes to let it fill his lungs. Then slowly he opened his eyes and took a look at nowhere, deeply lost thinking about nothing.
His eyes again slipped on her face, he slided on the bed as his torso bent over her flower fresh flawless body. A tress of her hair ran across her face touching her lips, the veil of which just made them all the more desirable. A long trail of a dried river of tears contoured her shapely cheeks, the once wet eyelashes had got entangled between themselves as the fingers of two lovers holding on to each other. He slowly lifted the tress to put it aside as if it was obstructing the shine of the Kohinoor. His heart slipped a beat or two and a smirk filled his face. His hands slowly glided down and touched the waist of her and with same slowness came back to him as he turned slowly to look at me. His smirk just got wider and wider, and the blood on his hands made it all the more ghastly!
I woke up , sweating profusely all over, heart pounding like a heavy hammer; I could feel every drop of blood being gushed in my veins. My mind took a smothering quick review of the ambiance, my eyes darting from one end to another; just that it was not normal.It had been an harrowing dream since that blood clad summer. I had been happily married to an angel and we had the best of what life could have offered to us; all to be taken back by destiny when a serial killer had struck our home. He had been caught, sentenced to death and been erased off the memories everyone maybe, but not me. But I had done a sin greater than his, I had read his diary, where he had written about the cold murder.
End Note: Can you carry the story further? If yes, write it in the comments
Girl in bed
Boy in bed
Labels: Fiction
posted by Jas @ 1:32 PM,
1 Comments:
-
At November 22, 2007 2:50 PM,
said...
-
http://www.neurosurvival.ca/ComputerAssistedLearning/readingCTs/how_to_read_a_ct_image.htm
