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Four Macabre Miniatures

The Knife
After chopping him to pieces, the knife smiled at her, winked, and she never feared it again.

The Tongue
Santiago heard the pounding. At first he thought it was his heart, then he saw the tongue nailed to the wall.

The Angel
The angel sat in a chair and rested her halo on her pleated dress. She pulled a soft cloth from somewhere and polished the golden ring, wiping off the blood as she went. I could only move my eyes and watch her from the rug as she placed the halo back on her head, walked across the wooden floor, and took flight when she opened the screen door, letting it bang as she flew away.

The Cliff
When he pushed her from the cliff, he took a step forward and listened to her scream and watched her fall and hit the rocks one after another in bloody dull thumps. Turning to leave the scene of the crime, a nervousness overtook him that stopped him from sauntering so leisurely. His skin became her skin. His blood became her blood. His muscle became her muscle. His bones became her bones. His soul became her soul. And all at once, his body was pummeled into a mangled chunky pulp.

END
© 2005 Christian Cloud Abraham

Posted on October 2, 2005 in
Emotion: Fear, Type: Fiction