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Portrait of a Murder (1,458)
hey there. I followed the advice people here gave me. I feel that it now reads a bit better and I also added more emotion to it. catch y'all on the flip side. enjoy
Portrait of a murder
I was in Calais on holiday. There was a heavy rain. She was standing on the boardwalk staring longingly across the restless sea, to Dover beyond, my home. I noticed that despite the cold, she wasn’t wearing any shoes and only had on some light summer clothing. They clung to her tightly from the wet, accentuating her every curve. A shiver flew down my spine and goosebumps erupted up my arms. Unconsciously, I took a step forward. A slight breeze blew past and she drew her arms up around her body to protect herself from the cold. My heart began to race uncontrollably. I took another step forward, this time deliberately. She spun around to face me and wiped her hair from her eyes. There was a look that was a cross between fear and sadness on her face that was immediately covered. She looked as if she had been crying but that could just have been from the rain. I smiled gently and held out my umbrella. The rain quickly soaked through my clothing. It was freezing. As she reached for the umbrella, her expression changed to one of gratitude. Our hands met briefly when she grasped the handle and then she drew it towards herself and began to walk away. I closed my eyes and felt the water move down my skin. My hand tingled where she had touched it. I tried to save her image... tried to remember every inch of her face. I felt a presence near me and eyes upon me. I opened my eyes. She hadn't left; she stood just feet away, smiling. She laughed and beckoned me to follow her. We came to a small cafe tucked away in a side street and took a seat inside by a window. The rain had stopped. We ordered drinks and talked for what seemed like hours. I told her that In Calais on holiday and was going back to Dover in a week. To my surprise, she told me that she was also from Dover and was going home at the same time.
Those were the kind moments I longed for as our relationship wore on. Shortly after we returned she moved into my place. Six months later, I proposed. We got married and for our honeymoon we decided to return to Calais. That was when it started to go downhill. While we were there we did everything together. We saw sights, went shopping and just relaxed together. On the third day though, I went out by myself. I was looking for a present to buy for her. I got home a little late because it had started raining heavily and there was a long wait for a taxi. When I got home she was still there, her coat was hanging by the door. I walked into the bedroom. She was sitting on the end of the bed, crying. I asked her what was wrong but she wouldn't tell me. This worried me but I didn’t persist. I sat beside her and comforted her until she fell asleep. I decided that the present could wait until our anniversary. The rain lasted until we returned home.
When we got back home he told me that he had been promoted. I was happy for him but the house became much lonelier. He began leaving earlier and getting back later. He also started flying out to meet with clients. I coped for a long time. I savoured every moment with him. Every kiss was like magic. I started painting to pass the time while he was gone. I really enjoyed that and my friends told me I had talent. He never took any interest in my art; he didn’t have time to. He supported me though; buying me some nice paints and brushes. He even bought me an easel, but then he started becoming distant. His hours started to become erratic and he started flying out even more to meet with 'clients'. He made me come to a dinner with his boss. She was a complete slut. She was all over him and he knew it but he didn't do anything. I told him that he should get a new job but he didn’t. He said that it wasn’t as easy as just getting a new job and refused to talk about it anymore.
This new schedule went on for a while. I would wake up after he left, go to sleep before he came home and dine with his boss. I continued to paint. My pictures were no longer making sense, not even to me. I just kept painting. My friends asked me if I was alright, he didn’t though. He still didn’t take any notice of my paintings. I don’t think he ever saw one. Sometimes my mind would wander while I painted. I thought of things that I hadn’t thought of since before I met him and one day I remembered our honeymoon. It was fantastic for the first couple of days, but on the third, he left without telling me where he was going and got back so late. I knew he had cheated on me. He cheated on me on our honeymoon! And then a thought occurred to me; if he had done it before... why not again? Was it really that farfetched?
One night my boss asked me to dinner to meet with a client. I didn't want to go. I knew she didn’t want me to go. I knew my boss had a thing for me, but work is work and it had to be done.
He was going to dinner. This time I wasn't invited. He kissed me on the cheek and left. Before, this kiss would have warmed me to the core, but tonight there was nothing. There was no magic left. I decided that I would follow him. I had to know if my suspicions were true.
I arrived at the restaurant. I had to run to the door because it had started raining. I stepped inside where it was blissfully warm. Neither my boss nor the client had arrived yet. I took a seat at a table for three and waited, wishing I had my wife by my side.
I crouched outside and stared through a window. It was raining and cold but I had to know. It didn't take long. The woman intent on ruining my life came in no time, wearing a red dress that barely came past her bum. She took a seat opposite him.
We ordered drinks. When I asked about the client, she didn’t know what I was talking about and I quickly realised that there was no client. I tried to excuse myself. I said that my wife was waiting for me but she insisted that I stay, and the client would be there soon.
They began to drink red wine. He always told me he hated it. The woman leaned across the table and pressed her lips against his. That was it! I couldn’t bear to see any more. I had to get out of there. I left the window and ran home through the increasingly heavy downpour.
I pushed her off in disgust and ran out to the car. I drove for a while to clear my head. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. In the morning I would call in and quit. I'd find a new job.
I got home, and now I sit in my kitchen. His gun wavers in my hand.... I've decided. If this is all life has to offer... then I can do without. I push the gun to my head.
I get home and run to the door. The rain is impossibly heavy. I open the door.
I hear the door open and I quickly reconsider. Why the hell should I die for what he has put me through?
I walk into the kitchen and I freeze. She has my gun pointed right at me.
I hold the gun. I aim it right at him and wait just a moment, to watch the fear grow in his eyes. He thinks I won’t do it.
I can’t move. I can’t make a noise. My head is filled with a silent scream.
She pulls the trigger. There is a deafening bang and the bullet quickly penetrates my clothing and then my skin. Red slowly spreads across his clothing, heat and pain explode across my body. I fall to the ground with an almost silent thud. The rain ceases. I pick up my brush, and I paint.
Last edited by thunderpossuem : 10-11-2007 at 02:32 AM.
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