You wake covered in blood, clutching a diamond earring and no memory of the night before.
“Well this just isn’t appropriate.”
The blood I could have handled. The strangely elegant teardrop diamond earring? Nice find. But the nakedness? Well, that just wasn’t good.
I take pride in my body and have done so for decades. I even like the occasional naked romp here and there. Yet, one thing I don’t care for at all is nakedness with no memory with how I got into such a state. Nakedness is so enjoyable that it should always be remembered how you got there.
The blood covering much of my body had long since dried, so at least I didn’t have to worry about cleaning it off anything as I wandered through the house. There had to be some sort of trail from last night, though. I needed a trail to take me back over the course of events I couldn’t seem to remember.
Ah ha! There in the kitchen, I ignored the open bottles of spirits and dirty blender – margarita night? – and found the first few drops of blood that must have dripped off my body, or someone else’s, while I made my way to the living room couch.
When the trail led me to the not-so-secret door in my bedroom, I didn’t feel much surprise. In fact, had I not found the drops on the kitchen floor, I would have gone straight to the door next.
With the pull of a specific book on my bookshelf, the door opened with nary a creak or groan. Two flicks of switches just inside turned the light on and shut the door behind me.
Only then did the groans come and I frowned, hurrying down the steps. What had happened last night? I couldn’t have possibly left things in the state implied by how I woke up…
And yet, there she was when I emerged into the room at the end of the stairs. A young woman, blond, healthy but with curves… Chained to the wall with another. Her smaller companion apparently wasn’t made of such strong will, her body telling me she had already died without me having to smell it on her.
I smelled the air. Even the dried blood around the room gave off a distinct tang – a tang I knew…
“Please,” the blonde begged, what little energy she had forcing her voice above a whisper. “Please.”
Then I spotted a teardrop diamond earring on her right here, and I snapped my fingers. “You’re a virgin! No wonder I couldn’t remember last night – and why I was so messy; virgins always make me drunk.”
Not one to waste, I decided to finish her off. But slowly this time. I didn’t want a repeat of last night.
#1 by CJT on October 4, 2009 - 12.39 am
That was just creepy. Excellent suspense!
#2 by Annie on October 4, 2009 - 9.03 pm
Nice little snapshot into a dark existence. Only those of us who have had the memory loss – perhaps not so similar to this – but parallel – can relate to the almost business like manner one explores the surrounding to piece together what has gone on the night before.
I apologize for being late this week – I like to do my comments immediately usually.
Welcome to Fiction Friday. Its always wonderful when new writers join the ranks. Its very nerve racking to publish your first draft of a story and then to allow other writers to come and comment. I hope you find its a valuable exercise and continue to enter each week.
My entry for this week can be found here -
http://annieevett.blogspot.com/2009/10/confederate-memories.html
#3 by JM on October 5, 2009 - 1.10 pm
CJT – Thanks!
Annie – No worries on being late. I’m usually more prompt with putting up my writing. I think Fiction Friday is exactly the sort of thing I need to keep a focus on my fiction writing, no matter who nervous it makes me.