Halloween Writing Challenge
On The Last of Her Days
A true story of a ‘crime of passion’
On the last of her days, the moon, a waxing crescent, gleams dimly through generic hotel blinds. She didn’t see this coming; thought she was in the clear, safe to let her guards down.
Now, he rinses her off his hands. Streams of crimson trickle down his legs to meet the white tiled floor; swirls down the shower drain. Gone.
On the night of her last day, she’s draped atop a king-bed, quiescent. The focal point of a Pollock-like creation, ringed by garnet sprays and splatters; abstract expressions of frenzied fervor.
Wrapped in a towel he surveys the scene and, for a moment, he panics: How will he get rid of this mess? What will the cleaning personnel think? But then he grins; it was well worth it!
On the last of her days, he brings her down and outside. It’s a Sunday night and the lobby is empty. No one saw them arriving together. No one sees him returning, alone.
Sighing as the elevator doors slide shut he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, rubs a scarlet smear off his forehead; still, in disbelief. He smirks.
On the evening of her last day, she’d put on her nicest lingerie. Don’t want to get caught dead in rags, her grandma used to say. She never took that literally.
When they met at the restaurant his dark eyes glimmered, eagerly, while resting on her pale neck. Veiny hands wiped the Bordeaux drops dribbling down his chin; foreboding.
On the last of her days, he’d taken her hand and walked her down cobbled streets. She’d always known him to be a gentleman, she thought, oblivious.
With the click of the door, he dropped his coat and a different creature took his place, thrusting her onto the pristine bedding. She still didn’t see it coming; his hand grabbing her throat.
On the night of her last day, she gasped and moaned, eclipsed by his forceful body. With each stab into her, passion painted the sheets a deeper shade of carmine. Until the final release.
At the end of the night, he runs hot water, adds soap, and rubs the fibers together. White no longer, ruby fades to peach, to blush, to almost gone. As he hangs them to dry, he hears a buzz…
—I’m home safe, thank you for an amazing evening! I’m so sorry about the mess, though… I hope it’s ok?
—Such a great night, wow! And, yeah, I just spent the last forty minutes cleaning the sheets and pillowcases in the sink. Will finish tomorrow…
—OMG, I feel bad. It was the last of my days, and I didn’t think I’d bleed so much… oops!
—All good sexy, we did it together and it was well worth it!
—We sure did, and we made quite the masterpiece. I might have to write a story about this someday…
© Ena Dahl 2021
PS! This Halloween feature is based on a true story. No humans were harmed in the making (rather the contrary).
