Memoir of the CHS

By Brokenwords


Cigarette smoke, like some careless gypsy, 
dances around the faintly lit silhouette 
of my heart. Once mesmerized by the way her hair effortlessly caressed the perpetual curves of her body. Now my eyes slowly begin to water in protest of my inexorable fear of blinking and missing a single moment of.....
   Let me rewind to elucidate past events, which now feel like an eternity ago, so you might understand the why(?) I see it behind your polygraph eyes....
   Before her very few things could entice my heartbeat to race beyond my control. Visualizing vivid memories of early afternoons spent laying in the park. Pitying the asphalt joggers trying to obtain the same level  of cardio that I achieve by her simple motions inviting me to come closer using that visual communication degree she was born with. Her hair falls right into place, as if Mother Nature is on stand by to send the smallest movement of air to assist. She bites the corner of her lip as she raises a single finger to command the direction  the world will spin. 

   Countless hours spent enthralled by her beauty. I’ve thrown words by the millions at the back of my teeth. My lexicon flipped through, more than a teenage boys first playboy, trying to accumulate a representation of the way she makes me feel....but like clockwork reality awakens me from my dreams. 

   Memories fade, much like the ending of a movie, bringing us back to the present. 

   ...the look on her face as she watches the life draining from her lovers face and pools beneath his dangling feet. Tears flowing from her eyes almost as fast as the blood now pouring from her throat. I gaze into her eyes one last time and I know she wishes that I had been the one in her memories. 

   The morning paper delivered. The head line clipped. My trophy box added to....The “Church Hill Slasher” kills again!

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2020 Brokenwords
Published on Sunday, September 6, 2020.     Filed under: "Short Story"
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