Post by flesheater on Aug 27, 2012 12:08:16 GMT -5
Readily (if I remember correctly) suggested that I post this story as well. This story was created out of the 100 word short titled "Crimson Princess". After sending this to a friend to proof read, he suggested re-writing it in a victorian gothic tone/setting instead; hence the creation of "Her" (which I feel is the ultimate out of the 3 random drafts of this story ha-ha!).
Here is the long version of the Crimson Princess...the modern day "Her" I suppose. I'm not a fan of this but I'll post it anyways.
Crimson Princess
By Matthew A. Campbell
Every morning I watch her; as she opens her eyes, she’s bathed in the warm glow of the rising sun, her hair sprawled about the pillow like ivy. She stretches her arms out above her head, the morning sun lights up her skin like a heavenly angel. This is the beauty I soak in, each and every morning. She doesn’t notice me gazing upon her. I take in every moment, watching her intimately, admiring every alluring quirk in her face until we must part. The time spent away from her feels distant and cold and I miss her, longing to see her again; she seems so far away.
Her work day ends at five o’clock; I anticipate seeing her again, knowing that the misery induced by her absence will be washed away. When she comes home, the casual business clothing is forgotten, as she resigns to her designer sweat pants and tank top. The comfort of these simple articles relieves her face of the daily stress, renewing her complexion. Her eyes lighten and embrace that same vibrant elegance as they did many hours prior. I watch her hair flowing freely; like a painter’s brush passionately dancing upon a canvas. She’s wearing her headphones, carelessly lost in the music. I sit and watch quietly, smiling at her. She reminds me of the most beautiful landscapes; I’ve never loved anyone this much before.
As the night wears on, I’m given another glimpse of her allure as she indulges in her books and television shows. When she reads I watch her mouth quiver, ever so slightly mouthing the words she’s reading. Her eyes follow along with the story as her mind wanders; her eyelashes, long and dark, flutter as she blinks, like a butterfly calmly resting on a leaf. When she watches television, I listen to her laugh fill the room; it is a joyous, upbeat laugh. Her happiness radiates through me, confirming my feelings for her. She’s the most beautiful when she’s carelessly laughing, not a single concern or worry could be read in her eyes. I realize now, this is love.
Darkness has settled in the night sky as she prepares for bed. Her skin is basked in the moonlight; its glow has painted the white walls and white linens in a deep, blue hue. As her eyes close and the expression on her face comes to rest, I feel myself calm, my heart filled with joy. I lie there thinking of her, imagining her staring back at me as her eyes penetrate mine; her hair framing her face as it caresses the air. She calls my name, telling me she only wants me; these are the thoughts I love most. Sometimes, though, my mind wonders about the thought of losing her, of never seeing her again; these are the thoughts I fear the most.
As the sun rose in the sky this morning I was sitting, watching, like I always do. I never tire of seeing her, of drinking in her beauty. Today I felt different, though. This would be the day that I made our love eternal, to ensure that she knows my love for her, that she’s embraced by my passion. I sat next to her bed as the sun flowed ever so slowly across her face. Her beauty was even more spectacular up close, in person. I had briefly felt its sheer magnitude in passing on the streets, but never have I viewed it this minutely. This morning would be different; I wouldn’t be watching her greeting the morning sun like I had all the mornings before. Not wanting to remember her filled with fear, those panic stricken eyes begging me for mercy, the terrified screams; I let her sleep.
Standing over her I felt myself drift into oblivion, reminiscing of her vivaciousness. I remembered her eyes; they were wild like fire, an angelic blue like the heavens above. How her hair danced through the air, seducing in its gestures. How her lips were soft and full, seeming to move in rhythmic perfection and how her skin radiated like the rays of the sun. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen and I loved her. Never had I felt a love like this before in my life, a love so passionate, so true; I knew she felt it, too.
These memories passed through my mind vividly as I penetrated her skin with the cold, sharp steel. I felt her warmth wash over my hand as the blade caressed her, consecrating our love. I swore to her I’d love her forever; that our love would survive even in death as we became one. I relished in her sweetness as I ingested her love, her beauty contrasted vibrantly against the white sheets; she looked like a crimson princess bathing in a sea of rose petals. In this communion I consumed the flesh, the blood, of an eternal love; she was now mine, forever.
Here is the long version of the Crimson Princess...the modern day "Her" I suppose. I'm not a fan of this but I'll post it anyways.
Crimson Princess
By Matthew A. Campbell
Every morning I watch her; as she opens her eyes, she’s bathed in the warm glow of the rising sun, her hair sprawled about the pillow like ivy. She stretches her arms out above her head, the morning sun lights up her skin like a heavenly angel. This is the beauty I soak in, each and every morning. She doesn’t notice me gazing upon her. I take in every moment, watching her intimately, admiring every alluring quirk in her face until we must part. The time spent away from her feels distant and cold and I miss her, longing to see her again; she seems so far away.
Her work day ends at five o’clock; I anticipate seeing her again, knowing that the misery induced by her absence will be washed away. When she comes home, the casual business clothing is forgotten, as she resigns to her designer sweat pants and tank top. The comfort of these simple articles relieves her face of the daily stress, renewing her complexion. Her eyes lighten and embrace that same vibrant elegance as they did many hours prior. I watch her hair flowing freely; like a painter’s brush passionately dancing upon a canvas. She’s wearing her headphones, carelessly lost in the music. I sit and watch quietly, smiling at her. She reminds me of the most beautiful landscapes; I’ve never loved anyone this much before.
As the night wears on, I’m given another glimpse of her allure as she indulges in her books and television shows. When she reads I watch her mouth quiver, ever so slightly mouthing the words she’s reading. Her eyes follow along with the story as her mind wanders; her eyelashes, long and dark, flutter as she blinks, like a butterfly calmly resting on a leaf. When she watches television, I listen to her laugh fill the room; it is a joyous, upbeat laugh. Her happiness radiates through me, confirming my feelings for her. She’s the most beautiful when she’s carelessly laughing, not a single concern or worry could be read in her eyes. I realize now, this is love.
Darkness has settled in the night sky as she prepares for bed. Her skin is basked in the moonlight; its glow has painted the white walls and white linens in a deep, blue hue. As her eyes close and the expression on her face comes to rest, I feel myself calm, my heart filled with joy. I lie there thinking of her, imagining her staring back at me as her eyes penetrate mine; her hair framing her face as it caresses the air. She calls my name, telling me she only wants me; these are the thoughts I love most. Sometimes, though, my mind wonders about the thought of losing her, of never seeing her again; these are the thoughts I fear the most.
As the sun rose in the sky this morning I was sitting, watching, like I always do. I never tire of seeing her, of drinking in her beauty. Today I felt different, though. This would be the day that I made our love eternal, to ensure that she knows my love for her, that she’s embraced by my passion. I sat next to her bed as the sun flowed ever so slowly across her face. Her beauty was even more spectacular up close, in person. I had briefly felt its sheer magnitude in passing on the streets, but never have I viewed it this minutely. This morning would be different; I wouldn’t be watching her greeting the morning sun like I had all the mornings before. Not wanting to remember her filled with fear, those panic stricken eyes begging me for mercy, the terrified screams; I let her sleep.
Standing over her I felt myself drift into oblivion, reminiscing of her vivaciousness. I remembered her eyes; they were wild like fire, an angelic blue like the heavens above. How her hair danced through the air, seducing in its gestures. How her lips were soft and full, seeming to move in rhythmic perfection and how her skin radiated like the rays of the sun. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen and I loved her. Never had I felt a love like this before in my life, a love so passionate, so true; I knew she felt it, too.
These memories passed through my mind vividly as I penetrated her skin with the cold, sharp steel. I felt her warmth wash over my hand as the blade caressed her, consecrating our love. I swore to her I’d love her forever; that our love would survive even in death as we became one. I relished in her sweetness as I ingested her love, her beauty contrasted vibrantly against the white sheets; she looked like a crimson princess bathing in a sea of rose petals. In this communion I consumed the flesh, the blood, of an eternal love; she was now mine, forever.