PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

   The night cloaks the street, everything as far as the eye can see is only illuminated by the occasional street light. She looks around, tries to get her footing and identify properly where she is. She begins to worry, and tries to fight off the fear that is panic. Adrainaline begins to coarse through her veins.

    As her breathing intensifies, heavier, heavier...she can hear her heart beating in her ears...he is watching her just in the distance. Her chest raises rapidly as she tries to catch her breath, piercingly dark eyes, shifting quickly, looking for who or what is after her.

   It appears she has gotten the train of her long black dress caught on something, she doesn't seem to remember how she got here or why she is so dressed up, but, she generally doesn't. She looks down and tugs roughly at her dress, only to hear a quick and loud rip as she snatches the dress free from whatever it was caught on. She is now wearing a shorter, thigh exposing, version of her black dress that has quite a low cut top with fishnets & boots, she always wears boots when she isn't supposed to...

   She begins to feel an intense jolt of panic hit her like lightning. Green eyes peer up from the ground, holding a large piece of her dress, revealing a man, sniffing the dress. Her chest begins to heave heavily, this pleases the man, he grabs his crotch and licks his lips. The woman runs as though she is a citizen of Pompeii and knew it was coming.

    She runs down a road, everything appears to be just roads & woods, no houses, no police, no help. Her mind begins to race. She examines herself for anything she may have on her person to use as a weapon, finds a butterfly knife in her cleavage, and as she runs she can feel her trusty tanto edged folding katana knife rubbing her ankle raw. She taps her corset for it's ability to hold things close to her, but curses it...for making running so fucking hard.

   He is watching her, in the distance, by the lake, run towards him. "Come here little kitty" he says, in a low, deep, slurred voice. He's in an unnatural form. He is hidden in a wooded area by the lake, wearing a dark cloak, watching her struggle with her hair and what she is wearing, he sees her fish something out of her cleavage, he gets turned on, he is too distracted to even care what it is. He starts thinking of her putting on her make up, what her perfume smells like, waking up next to her...he bites his fist.

   She arrives at the lake, finally, to her relief she sees a bench, she whips her head around to see if the coast is clear. She sees nothing but darkness, woods and the crescent moon dancing off of the lake. She sits on the bench, & begins to untie her corset. She feels a satchel in the back of her corset, immediately removes her corset to examine it's contents, one pair of black brass knuckles. She immediately puts them on her left hand saying "Was looking for those".

   As her mind is racing for an idea of what the fuck to do and she is trying to catch her breath, she hears twigs cracking, just to her right. Her head jolts to the right, she sees a cloaked figure dart back into the woods, her heart beat is now pounding in her head.
    "Holy fuck, he found me! What do I do, WHAT DO I FUCKING DO!" the woman thinks to herself. She can feel the adrenaline coarsing through her veins as the man starts to dart toward her like a madman. She tries to collect herself, and grips on her brass knuckles firmly...she feels in charge of the situation, until she sees something shiny in his right hand, she can't make out if it is a knife or a gun...the feeling of terror hits her in the pit of the stomach like a cannon ball. She slumps onto the bench, almost defeated.

   The cloaked man draws nearer, a strong gust of wind exposes his face. The woman examines his face and thinks "Okay, take away the dirt...the time, the facial hair...that is my ex fiance...chasing me...with a rather large fucking knife! From what I can make out, it seems to be a machete? No, smaller...a dagger with a fixed blade, made for combat. He plans to fucking kill me today!?". Her mind races trying to remember where she was before this & how she'd even dressed herself & geared herself up & just, had those things left untouched. "I hate the fucking blackouts!" she huffs.
  She can feel breath on her neck "Why do I think so fucking much?", she thinks, to herself. Her head whips back, she sees nothing, she remembers she was going to meet someone she had never met. She rests her head in her hands out of stress, then looks up, and he is next to her...holding the knife to her throat.

  "I just want you to listen to me" he says to her, slurring his words. She wonders if he has started drinking on top of his other habits, but can smell nothing. She releases a heavy sigh, fishes a cigarette from a corset pocket, lights it, and blows the smoke towards him, remaining silent. He tells her he wants her back, she starts to think "The only way I can make it out of this alive today is if I play along with this fucking psycho...". She is in Darwinism mode. She takes her cigarette with her signature black lipstick on it and puts it in his mouth, knowing he's an avid smoker. He becomes momentarily distracted, and lowers the knife.

  She gets up, he raises the knife again & tugs at her dress, so she sits down and says "Whatever you want dearest", and kisses him on the cheek, mentally she feels like she is going to throw up, physically, she has to pretend everything is peachy fucking keen. She takes the cigarette from him and begins kissing the man that she once had love for, that she once wanted to spend forever with, and she is now trying not to throw up in his mouth as she grabs for her butterfly knife...

   With a quick jolt, the man feels a dart of pain go through his shoulder like lightening, he drops the dagger. The rage within him grows and he begins to choke his once beloved lady. As blows of something hard and cold hit him in the right side of the face, he becomes light headed, and disoriented, he realizes his nose is broken, this makes him even more enraged. He hears his dagger splash in the lake as he is regaining his compsure.

 She is knelt down on the ground, pretending defeat, fishing her trusty folding katana knife out of her boot, she wipes it off on her dress & holds it firmly in her right hand.

   He attacks her from behind, the weight alone causes her to crumble. She rolls over, he feels a sharp pain in his abdomen, going from the left to the right. She scrambles out from underneath him, covered in blood.

   He'd forgotten about her infatuation with dark things, this includes death, suicides, and Japanese suicide. She had told him about it before, and he had told her about it before, "seppuku". Often reserved only for a samurai, they'd have one blade in specific for it if they had brought shame to themselves or commited serious offenses. It was considered an honorable death compaired to what their enemies wanted to do to them, at least. But this wasn't suicide, this was homicide.

   The last thing he saw before he bled out, was her smiling face, lighting a cigarette, over his dying body.