A Smirk for a Demise

Authors Note:  This is my Newspaper Black-out Inspired Story. I really really don't like news papers so I based this off of two of the Black-out pieces I made form the novel pages. The pieces are in bold after the story itself. I hope you enjoy my dark little tale!   

I was running as fast as I could; weaving in and out of trees. My bare feet were slapping against little sharp stones and pebbles, making each stride sting. My chest tightened further with every breath, as if it was going to collapse in on itself. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping my warn body from shutting down. 

I couldn't get the haunting image of her face out of my head. Her cryptic smile.... Those dreaded teeth....

I couldn't stop running. I had to keep going until I was as far away from where she lay as possible. I had to keep running until the presence of her is ridden away from my mind, never to set foot inside this cluttered head again. I had too keep running until my feet become as torn apart and ripped up as her flesh had been.

I spotted unknown shadows scamper around me in the damp forest. I heard a few hungry wolves howl to the heavens. I even felt as if the heavens themselves were watching me as I scurried through the darkness; as if the bearers of halos and harps had any sympathy for me. 

How could they, after what I had done?

I would have sworn on the grave of my dear, sweet mother, that my beloved had been lying with another man. It was only a hunch that began to grow after coming home multiple nights after work to a weird air about the small cabin that we shared. I found myself regretting acting upon my haste as soon as I walked into the cabin at nightfall, and caught a glimpse of her face. Instantly, I was gripped by the hands of Regret; as if a dreary illness had fallen over me. 

I had told the man I wanted her dead, not massacred.

When I forked the crisp bills over to him yesterday morning, I'd imagined my wife would be lying still with a small and simple hole in her chest; an eye for a metaphorical one. It was a sight that I played once over and again in my mind's eye, to prepare for the sight I would "stumble upon" while entering my home.

No number of imagery repetition could prepare me for what I had seen though.

The wonders of working adrenaline can only hold a man up for so long. The moon was overcome by a haze of clouds, dimming my midnight path. I stumbled over a tree root, limbs clattering to the ground; then came a cough. My body ached. With a defeated breath I cursed the heavens for the scampering shadows, for the howling wolves, for thick clouds, for hazy nights, and for damned tree roots. Most of all, I cursed a mysterious trench coated mercenary and a woman with a cheating heart.

A crisp growl seeped from the near darkness.

I tried to gain a bit of leverage from the stony soil, but my body felt lifeless and my bones frail. So I lied there in a collapsed state, alongside my likewise soul. I could hear Death creeping up on me, twigs breaking beneath his paws.

I looked through the trees and up at the heavens. I knew the angels where staring down at me, but I could not see them.

All that was before me was the gruesome image of my wife, sprawled across the floor, skin ripped to shreds, bones broken to pieces....and the same swollen little smile playing on her lips.

It is a disturbing sight to see a dead woman smile.

It is even more terrifying when you realize why she was.




A/N: The Black-out Pieces go as followed: 

"I need evil
 I need an agonizing death
 a suitably agonizing death."


"dead
 face drawn
 lips 
 curling."