You change with the wind, as they blow through your life.
You're happy, then your sad, you cocoon, you molt and then you fly far, far away.
You need time to yourself!
You need to figure out who you are!
You need to be you!
But I have been me all along.
You see, the only ever thing I've ever wanted to be,
was someone else.
Darkness falls, you hear my plea
Wander close into the street
Blades so sharp, I'll slice your feet
I want your little toes to keep
Hush my child, don't make a peep
Drag you screaming to my shed
Lay you down upon my bed
Sara came to play with me
Moonlit sparkle I do see
Your eyes will twinkle as my own
Gouging deep while scraping bone
Your cries are ringing in the air
My fingernails, you are aware
Tearing flesh from off your arms
Fright will surely bring more harm
My giggles shrill into a song
The cuts I'm making very long
Sara pleads, don't play with me
But bloodshed's sure to set me free
The axe is swung so very high
Landing hard below your thigh
Smooth white legs I chop to bits
Hurry now before you quit
One more cut into your belly
Hand slide in to gooey jelly
Your insides do feel warm tonight
Beating heart will bring delight
Fingers closed around it firm
Ripping now, you cease to squirm
Hold it close, I feel you near
My love for you, so very dear
Sara you will always be
Floating on the reddened sea
Soul adrift a wondrous flight
The pain I wrought with all my might
My gift to you this deadly night
Darkened streets do always bite
The move had also been good for his wife's failing health. The cool sea air brought color back into her cheeks. She looked more radiant now than she had when they were first introduced; a harsh contrast to the many sullen looking women in town, faces filled with scars, begging for scraps of bread in exchange for favors unfathomable to a gentleman.
He walked the docks, seeking conversation, advice, any sort of discourse. Strange looks and whispers followed every footstep. New comers were not welcomed, questions even less. Every morning the seafarers headed out and he took note as they returned before the setting sun. In the countryside, it was habit for the fishermen to cast during the late hours, when feeding was more likely to occur. Routine here was much different he saw.
Back in town and drunk, the men became far more open to his presence. They shared stories of large hauls, blinding weather and, of course, legends. "BEWARE" they shouted with rolling bouts of laughter. He smiled with them, hiding rattled nerves. They said to see Old Tom in the morning. He would lend him a small boat for a portion of his catch, to get him started.
Tom was indeed old, or as weathered as years of sea work might make a man. They talked long and easy; agreed on a fair trade. Tom spoke, "Damn them, those liars, don't listen to a word they say." He scratched a rough face with the sharp end of a bloodied knife. "The deep has always had it's stories. Just a bunch of drunks with nothing better to do than talk. You fish as you like. You fish as you know."
And he had. The calm voice of age had settled Joseph's stomach then. Reassuring words now echoed hollow as he felt the pangs of a missing arm and fractured legs. Something large had overtaken his boat this first day out. Moments from his last breath, consumed in a painfully blurry instant, nothing but the present spoke. He felt his grip on the spongy flesh of this beasts tongue weakening with every wash of water that flowed past giant teeth embedded with rotted flesh unknown. As the putrid air pockets began to disappear and the pressure in his head increased, he welcomed the taste of salt in his lungs; a far easier nightmare than flesh dissolving slowly off his skin in the belly of this monster. "I am sorry, my love," he thought as the thoughts ceased to be.
The elder sailors chuckled over drained pints of ale. One of the men began sharpening his knife at the table. "You know," he said, "too young a man to have left unattended, such a pretty wife."
"She'll no doubt be waiting up for him to come home," chimed in another.
"Poor thing is probably scared out of her mind with worry," laughed the eldest.
The small group left too late and too drunk, to deliver bad intention masked by the solemn news. Terror in the deep was only rivaled by that back on shore.
Pulling into the driveway, I glanced up. The dark curtains were drawn. He was here. And earlier than expected.
No sooner had I parked the car, I was bounding up the front steps to the heavy mahogany door. There was a small note taped there. “Quiet,” it read. I had already made too much noise. Shameful, I thought, though the promise of what was to come only increased the now pulsing between my thighs.
I paused to catch my breath, to focus. Anticipation in the form of glistening beads of sweat gathered on my temples. My nipples stimulated instantly by the movement of my satin camisole.
I slid my key into the lock, quietly slipping inside, easing the door shut again and locking us both in for the evening. I felt every rise and fall of my blouse. The house was cold but I already knew the warmth of the whips lashings would soon feel like noonday sunlight upon my skin; burning hotter as my flesh methodically reddened, lulling me into a dreamy state of heavenly submission.
The last golden light from a setting sun, slipped in from slits and edges of the draperies, softly illuminating the otherwise darkly staged room. He must have had the floors polished, the faint smell of wax reaching up to touch my nose.
In front of me, on the old oak table there was a small wooden box dark etchings covered the lid. It was my wooden box, kept away from me until moments such as these. Focusing on it, I smiled widely for a brief moment before scanning over the evening’s chosen attire.
Next to the box, lay a crucifix of tarnished gold; an aged bible whose pages frayed at the end and undoubtedly will waft musty when opened. Next to it, there were blood red rosary beads and a hairpin made of pearl. A dull gray woolen jacket and skirt were draped over a chair to my right. The fabric promised fitted, uncomfortable resignation. On the seat, there were black stockings I knew to be as soft as lambskin, soon to be shredded as the others before, and my corset of blue constraining movement further. His impeccable taste delivered no finer vision of bodily worship.
My heart now steady, I took to slipping off my shoes, placing them softly on the table. A door shut in the back of the house, startling me. The smell incense began to make its way out of the hallway; a soft mist indicating he was aware of my arrival, my presence required in a timely manner. We indeed had a lot of catching up to do.
Careful not to make a sound, I took off my business suit and placed it on the chair with my purse and keys. I eased into the imported silk stockings, my hair pulled back into a bun, carefully securing each clasp of the restrictive corset. I took my time getting dressed; smoothing out the rough fabric of the suit with my hands as the moments ticked slowly by. Every tiny detail attended to, as it would be minutely scrutinized.
One little peak before my affirmation began. Carefully, I lifted the boxes lid. A diamond studded collar twinkled against black velvet lining. My heart picked up it’s pace again. He had taken it with him on the business trip. I raised the lid and released, letting it slam shut.
I wrapped the beads loosely around my right hand and slipped back into my heels.
I grabbed the box and tucked it under my arm. I picked up the book, the cross on top.
“Hail Mary, full of grace. Our Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women,” I whispered.
With long purposeful steps, I strode to the location of the closed door. My feet heavy, my heels thumping hard on the wooden floors echoing throughout the house, sure to reach his ears. I would suffer at his hands for having broken the rules. I would suffer at his hands for the redemption of my soul. My long awaited confession would be first; for whilst he was away, I committed the most lecherous of sins; the lascivious hallmark of an unrestrained predator, hunting in the night her targeted prey.
Welcome home, my love.