BloodRedRoses
Four Thousand Club
The sun was beginning to peak up from the surrounding hills, casting a pink light over the town. A fresh pink light. The birds were starting to awake and sing, chirping chattily fluttering from tree to tree, spreading their happy song across the town. The children lay in their beds dreaming ever good dream one could think of.
He had to work fast, people would wake soon and he mustn't get caught. Not that he thought he would. He had been working for hours, his dark hair covered in sweat as he moves around, getting the perfect angle to work from. His Artwork was almost done.
His eyes began to glint in the morning sunlight almost identical to the flash of the handle he held.
She was Beautiful. Her clear pale skin looked almost if it was glowing as the light from window slowly fell over her. Her eyes were closed and a peaceful expression was spread over her lips, which were a bright red, but not naturally. Her long, well groomed, black hair was spread out around her face, making her skin all that pale. She was almost translucent, she looked like an angel. A smile spread over his lips as he looked at his muse . . . She was fantastic.
He then heard the cluttering of the milkman’s cart on the road, just as he added the final touch. He was done. His artwork was complete. It was beautiful. He stood back and wiped the sweat off his brow as he admired his work, his blue eyes glinting with joy.
They were going to start a life, get married, open a shop, have kids, their future was going to be bright. She had talked as she slipped into her slumber, and he had held her, waiting for the perfect time to begin his artwork. They had spoken about their love and how they would start a new life.
They had kissed so passionately, his lips lacing hers with a sweet tasting substance that would help her slip away. They had pushed themselves close, in the midst of the passion, This would be their last kiss. Oh how seductive she looked lying there oh so still. The red substance on her lips looked so tempting . . . He had to kiss her one time.
He bent down slowly, and pressed their lips together, his eyes never closing, just watching her. He stood and licked the blood of his lips, and he savored the taste.
He could taste the honey on her lips, her poison. Her chest lay still and the almost fresh tear stains on her cheeks made her glow. The gashes on her pale, pale skin looked perfect and almost statistic pattern. His beautiful, loved, dead muse.
He traced a hand down her cheek as he admired his work for the last time. He walked out of the room, the thrill of his murder pumping through his veins. The high was fading as he walked down the street when he saw her. His next muse. She had beautiful flowing blonde hair, her skin wasn't pale instead it had a tan quality to it. Her piercing blue eyes swept the street until they met. And so it begins
He had to work fast, people would wake soon and he mustn't get caught. Not that he thought he would. He had been working for hours, his dark hair covered in sweat as he moves around, getting the perfect angle to work from. His Artwork was almost done.
His eyes began to glint in the morning sunlight almost identical to the flash of the handle he held.
She was Beautiful. Her clear pale skin looked almost if it was glowing as the light from window slowly fell over her. Her eyes were closed and a peaceful expression was spread over her lips, which were a bright red, but not naturally. Her long, well groomed, black hair was spread out around her face, making her skin all that pale. She was almost translucent, she looked like an angel. A smile spread over his lips as he looked at his muse . . . She was fantastic.
He then heard the cluttering of the milkman’s cart on the road, just as he added the final touch. He was done. His artwork was complete. It was beautiful. He stood back and wiped the sweat off his brow as he admired his work, his blue eyes glinting with joy.
They were going to start a life, get married, open a shop, have kids, their future was going to be bright. She had talked as she slipped into her slumber, and he had held her, waiting for the perfect time to begin his artwork. They had spoken about their love and how they would start a new life.
They had kissed so passionately, his lips lacing hers with a sweet tasting substance that would help her slip away. They had pushed themselves close, in the midst of the passion, This would be their last kiss. Oh how seductive she looked lying there oh so still. The red substance on her lips looked so tempting . . . He had to kiss her one time.
He bent down slowly, and pressed their lips together, his eyes never closing, just watching her. He stood and licked the blood of his lips, and he savored the taste.
He could taste the honey on her lips, her poison. Her chest lay still and the almost fresh tear stains on her cheeks made her glow. The gashes on her pale, pale skin looked perfect and almost statistic pattern. His beautiful, loved, dead muse.
He traced a hand down her cheek as he admired his work for the last time. He walked out of the room, the thrill of his murder pumping through his veins. The high was fading as he walked down the street when he saw her. His next muse. She had beautiful flowing blonde hair, her skin wasn't pale instead it had a tan quality to it. Her piercing blue eyes swept the street until they met. And so it begins
