My first ever actual short story...

[Mors]

I'm posting it here for the heck of it =) You can read it, tell me it's awful, what you like or what you don't like. Just spout away.

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Good News in the Acid Times

by Mors

Love had become acid.

It dripped into every orifice and crack, destroying only the inside, much to her dismay. She wished the acid-love would disfigure her outside just as the inside. Instead, it just continued to corrode her insides until there was hardly a memory of her heart.

The acid became her nectar, slowly but surely killing her. She picked up the calendar, staring at every lunch date and evening rendezvous. Each arrangement had its own name, its own form of burning liquid. She would know it one day, spend the night (or, in some cases, the morning or afternoon), and then never receive the poison again.

She dropped the calendar in it's designated spot and replaced the empty space in her hand with her personal journal. She despised the word diary. She turned to the last day she had written in it, which was a good twenty pages back. "I've realized..."

Funny how she hadn't finished that sentence. She hadn't really had time to realize anything since the sex began, since... She glanced at the date in the right corner of the page... February 11th, 1997, the most infamous date in her history. February 11th... the date of Magdolin's death and his decision that their life together had then lost its luster.

She opened "his" drawer and places the journal in there, probably never to be opened or written in again. Traditionally, "the picture" was placed back out on the desk, only to be returned to the drawer when her next date arrived. Her eyes unwillingly focused on the visually warn picture. Her body was then swelled up with their love and the cloud that was Magdolin had not yet appeared.

Her hand clenched around the fram and she shot it across the room, not even jumping when the glass shattered down at the edge of her feet. That was the first time that the glass graced her walkway. She noted to herself that next time she should just throw it out hte window to save herself the trouble of having to replace the glass and maybe the frame for the sixth time that month.

All that was left in her mind was his words. "Eve, without the baby, there is no us." Instead of tempting man with an apple, she tempted him with pregnancy. She wondered if the real Eve had tempted man with an apple and hadn't come through with it, would Adam have kicked her out of the garden of Eden and out of his life? That would have made an interesting bible.

She walked around the broken glass out of habit, yet when she thought about it, she would rather have bled all over the floor. Maybe then if all the blood drained from her body the obscure disorder she suffered would disappear. Then maybe he would come back. She scoffed at her own completely idiotic thought... or was it?

Possibilities were not something she wanted to talk about. Her life had taken one horrid path the day that Magdolin died, the day all her hopes of love and family that had seemed so possible became so utterly bleak.

Even walked away from the desk, leaving the drawer ajar. As she walked through the kitchen and past the door, she spotted the mail shrewn across the floor near the mail slot. She bent down slowly, seating herself ont he floor. The first thing that caught her eye was the card that she automatically knew was from her mother. Anothing pity card fromt he person who had never given her an ounce of emotion in her life other than hate.

The card made her wish she still smoked so she'd have the matches to burn it to a crisp. She was forced to rip it to bits instead and spread the remains across the hard wood floor. Beneath the shamble of ripped words happened to be words in the handwriting that she recognized most. Her heart sunk. The last time she received a letter from him was when he got married to "her" and decided to invite her out of the warmth of his heart. Maybe this letter would be a reason to buy matches.

She opened it slowly, a headache on the verge of explosion in her head with all the unhealed anguish from his last correspondence. Suddenly the nausea gripped her and she rushed for the bathroom, making it there just in time. As she relieved the toil in her stomach, the letter still burned between her fingers.

Why did she even have to open it? She dangled it over the bowl as if it were a person on a plank over shark-infested water. One more step would certainly mean doom for the parchment and possibly for the plague reeking havoc in her intestines. She wiped her mouth, pulled the letter to her chest tightly, and closed the lid.

Leaning herself against the bath in some sad attempt to steady her wildly moving insides, she pulled out the contents of the envelope. Maybe it was simply him pretending that the two of them had remained close friends... but the content was too much. She dropped the picture of the newborn baby boy to the ground, narrowing her eyes at the text in the card behind it. "... baptism of Cain John Dirged..." There wasn't enough liquid in her stomach to appease the nausea.

Ten minutes later, she could no longer smell the overpowering stench of vomit in the room. Instead, her eyes gazed lifelessly at the ceiling, the warm bathwater diffused with blood. The picture of Cain that had slipped from her death-relaxed fingers was now floating in the pinkish water. In a way, she had received the answer to her prayers, for the devil now sat on the seat of her toilet, leaving her everything but alone. As her last breath escaped her, she could almost swear she'd seen him, heard him make one of those signature suave comments; "Now, what did the bible say about Cain killing Abel?"

[Voice Caile]

That last line was pretty twisted, I like it. Kinda makes you have to think the way you delivered it.