I hear him coming...
His singing makes me cry...
I have to fly!
The key is turning in the door...
It opens, sunlight teasing me to run...
The wind caresses my face!
I see the sky!
He steps inside, looking around for me.
Closing the door to the outside world.
He smiles, holding a gift for me...
He sits on the dirty bed
Stroking my hair, whispering sweet words...
The sun lifts my arms!
He lays me down beside him...
He touches me and I scream inside!
I begin to fly!
I have been torn away from myself...
I am lost in his dark “wantings” of me...
Fly...fly...I am free!
No pain...no hurt...just flying far, far away!
About the Creator
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More stories from Jeff Bardeau and writers in Poets and other communities.
Strangers In The Night
Drool fell from his grimacing smile, landing on the bare chest of his latest female victim, just before the knife blade sliced across her breasts. If she could have screamed, she would have, but with no tongue and a gag in her mouth, it was hopeless. The back alley street light lit up her black and blue face, showing the horror in her eyes while her body trembled violently between his legs. That was enough for him. The joy of it all made him tremble and giggle with delight. This time the blade sank deep into her chest, breaking her rib cage as it entered, releasing a stream of hot steaming blood that pooled then ran down her white skin towards her belly button. Her body jerked once. The blade was pulled out. His right index finger went into the wound and then pulled out, dripping with blood all over his hand. He put it in his mouth for a moment then sucked on it, savoring every drop. The first taste is always so sweet! She was totally still now. He felt for a pulse that was gone. He closed her eyes and gave her a kiss on the lips as his way of thanking her for her love and his release. With the beam of the flashlight that laid on the ground next to him, he admired his artistic statement one last time. Before he got up off her he cut off her left ear as a reminder of the good time they had together. He put in his trophy pouch that was attached to his belt. Putting the knife back into its sheath, he gingerly picked up her body, carrying it over to the dumpster by the wall of the restaurant's back door, all the while whistling “You Are My Soul And Inspiration.” He lifted the lid and put her in among the trash. With the lid closed, he went back to see if he had left any telltale things behind.
By Jeff Bardeau7 years ago in Horror
A Digital Pandemic.
After a long day in the department, Emily dropped her worn and tired dark leather bag on the counter before navigating through the small and disordered kitchen to grab a cold beer from a contrarily empty fridge. She hadn't had a chance to unpack since moving from Newcastle to Glasgow, let alone shop for sustenance, except for cold brews naturally.
By Billie Whyteabout 5 hours ago in Chapters
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