40. A Little Story

The Kiss of Death

I wanted to know everything about her; I wanted to know how she worked. Everyday I would see her, lurking in the school halls or sitting out in the fields, watching—she was always there, skulking around, watching my every move.

I never felt uneasy; I liked how she looked at me. Longing for my attention that I could never give her. I remember the first time she brushed passed me, her red nails glided over my wrists, leaving a scar that left me wanting. I couldn’t feed my addiction and I didn’t want to get involved; my life was too complicated to have her be a part of it. But, she waited on me until I was ready. Until I couldn’t resist having her glide across my skin, feeling my hands intertwined in her beautiful sleek black hair that shapes every angle of her pale white face and for her jet black eyes to mesmerize me as they peered into my soul.

She was entrancing, but I seemed to be the only one to notice her.

It wasn’t until graduation that I finally gave into my temptation. She leaned against the exit door, waiting for me. I walked to her in silence and she looked into me. She leaned in and gave me the kiss—the kiss of death.


 

***Please comment if you want more short stories like this. I am a little hesitant to share some of my more intense short stories, but if you anyone requests it I would feel a lot better posting more short stories.


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