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Silver Kiss

Author: Rastine Aristat
ASL Info:    19/Male/California
Elite Ratio:    8 - 125 /62 /31
Words: 1124
Class/Type: Story /Misc
Total Views: 852
Average Vote:    No vote yet.
Bytes: 6200


Ok, this one was orriginally called "The Gambit," but i found that the title didn't fit, so I changed it. I changed the ending so that it would feel less abrupt, less forced. Also, some minor editing was done to make it flow a little better.
I hope to hear what you think.

Silver Kiss

A man watched the reflection of his lithe, naked form in the full-length mirror. His gaunt face surrounded by auburn locks, matted from the shower he had recently taken. Haunted blue eyes stared back at him which he simply could not convince himself belonged to him. His gaze passed along the diverse lines that crisscrossed his skin Some were won in fights, but most had been given with the straight razor which he so loved. He reverently traced the pink risen, flesh with a deft finger like an arcane road from his upper thigh to his left nipple. “You nearly died that night,” he uttered solemnly, “But of course Mother saved you, didn’t she?” His voice was devoid of emotion as he prompted himself towards the task at hand, lest the will for the deed be abated from him.

“You were warned,” he had, he reminded himself firmly, “not to evaluate this problem as thoroughly as the last one. Had the cut been just a little deeper, you wouldn’t be here right now.” He stepped away from the mirror to the nightstand a few steps away. Upon it, in all it’s aesthetic power, lay a silver chamber attached to a wooden handle. A small curved silver piece protruded from the merging of metal and wood. His left hand gingerly held the gun, and with his free hand, he retrieves a small, weathered scrap of paper. He had sworn to himself that he would abide by its contents, which had been agreed upon, in a time that now seemed a lifetime of triviality ago.

He read the paper on last time before rising to sacrifice it to the darkness. Woefully, he threw it out the open window. The warm breeze gently caressed his bare skin as he turned his wistful gaze to the mourning stars above. “What a beautiful night,” he muttered not to himself, but to the night itself. “It is such an exquisite evening to die.” He slowly raised the barrel to his head, and felt it’s icy lover’s kiss to his temple. As his finger reached the for the trigger, there came a light rapping upon the door in the next room. The sound came from the portal to the outside world.

The man placed the gun on the bureau once more, and walked out to greet his visitor. When he opened the door, there appeared the nubile form of his neighbor, although for the life of him, he could not place her name. He opened his mouth to greet her, but she was already speaking as the threshold opened. “Hey, I was going for a little jaunt to the park, and I was wondering,” she paused for a moment before continuing, “Is this a bad time?” she asked, unabashed. He wondered what could have changed her train of thought, but as he followed her gaze to his manhood he understood.

“Oh, sorry about that, just got out of the shower, and I don’t often get visitors and…” he began to explain, but she raised one hand to her sensual lips to call for silence.
“It’s alright,” she said frankly, quite undaunted by his nakedness. “I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t interrupting you from something you’d rather be doing.” So, did you want to go on that walk, or no?”

His solemn face became somber with contemplation. “I’m sorry, but there are some final things I have to take care of here tonight. But if you come back in about half of an hour, I should have them wrapped up.” He offered her a brief, compassionate smile, which she returned.

“Ok,” she said, in mockingly coercing, singsong voice, “but if you aren’t done, I’ll have to rough you up, more than those marks say that you have been.”

His mouth smiled at her words, but his hollow eyes begged that she read them. But it was too late, she had turned away from him, she wouldn’t be able to save him anymore. As she made her way down the driveway, he called out to her, “I will be, I promise, just walk in if it suits you.”

“Deal,” her melodious voice called back. “But no funny business, and make sure to be dressed when I come to pick you up.” He waited for a moment for her to return. When she did not, he returned to his room, leaving the doors unlocked. “She will be back,” he told himself. “She will expect you to be clothed.” His hands seemed to know what to do before he told them to, as they already had a pair of jeans pulled up and buttoned before he had any conscious recollection of dawning them.

The man took up the gun once more, and held it to his temple. The cool breath that it placed upon his skin was his final companion. He offered one more prayer to his mother’s God. “I don’t know if you are up there,” he began his terse prayer, laying himself onto the spartan sheets. “If you are listening, please watch over her, and help her to know that this was not by her hand. Guide her in the following days, for they will try her more than any.”

He closed his eyes tranquilly, as his finger reached for the trigger. He inhales one final breath of sweet scented air. A steady finger squeezes the trigger gently. A bolt of fire and thunder explodes to the gun to enter his brain and flashed out the other side before burying itself into the wall next to him. Sanguine rivulets of blood trickling down to soak the frost colored pillow below. As he took refuge in an embrace colder than the frosted, silver lips, the serenity of darkness surrounded him, engulfed him.

The moment before he died, he had one regret, one tear to shed. The image came to mind of the nymph he had told to return standing over his lifeless body. Feeling her tangible horror, which was sure to manifest, the fading man shed one last tear. A tear for a woman he would never know, never grow to love.

Before the crystalline repentance rolled from his cheek, the soothing lull of oblivion called to him. It was a call that he answered with a clear heart from a scarlet pool of snowy down. The gaunt man’s heart ceased beating; he was cold before he was found. However, when his visage was seen, he wore not a macabre mask, but a smile as at peace as the gently flowing stream on a carefree day.

Submitted on 2006-03-14 16:19:39     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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  I liked this, which is extremely odd because i usually don't care much for stories along these lines. i think it was the peacful mood and the good job you did describing the scene.

i do have few suggesions:

In the fist paragraph, you start talking about his eyes and physical apperance-

"Haunted blue eyes stared back at him which he simply could not convince himself belonged to him."

i understand what you are trying to say but in this sentence, it just feels a bit akward. maybe you might want to try something like "Haunted eyse stared at him, so emotionless, he could not think of them as his own." or something like that.

Throughout the story, you change tenses many times. A tense change might work towards the end when you start to talk about the time period just before the shot but you need to go through and make sure all your paragraphs are consistant with the tenses.

I would like to see a bit more description of the woman when we fist meet her. by the end, he seems a little connected to her so i think being able to visualize her would be helpful.

Oher than that, I liked this. I like that you didn't make it too angry. i am a bit lost about the piece of paper but i have my suspicions so thats not_too_ confusing. good job adding the scar on his body- it adds depth i think. Anyway, thanks for sharing this, its pretty good.
| Posted on 2006-03-14 00:00:00 | by Sasha Lynn | [ Reply to This ]

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