“If I could only steal her heart,” Montrose muttered to himself.
She was stunning in her fine blue dress. Elynor, the others had called her.
Her hair was white as pure snow and appeared to be equally soft. He dreamed to run his fingers through it. To caress her. To hold her in his arms.
He wanted to swing her around in a dance. To twirl her about before their silent audience. To kiss her pale, pink lips. To see her swoon.
She was so beautiful.
The closer he got, the more he could smell of her.
Intoxicating.
He wafted her in like a fine wine. So fine, indeed, Montrose thought. Her porcelain skin looked so delicate and smooth he didn’t even need to touch her to know it.
He peered deep into Elynor's lifeless eyes, whispered an empty apology, and slammed his knife into her chest. He set to cutting out her heart with a twisted smile on his face.
Montrose held the organ between his dark-red hands, staring at it as intensely as one might eye a crystal ball.
I did it, he thought with a triumphant grin, gripping tightly at the woman’s heart. I finally did it!
About the Creator
JP Harris
I like writing kooky stories
Comments (1)
Excellent little piece of twisted microfiction- loved it!