ANTISUN GREY Presents | A Brian Franklin Story

I probably shouldn’t have killed her.

Blood covered my hands. Sweat mingling with tears as they ran down my cheeks, drip-drip-dripping onto my chest. The knife still lay planted in her chest, cradled by a growing blossom of blood soaking into her blouse. Her big brown eyes were frozen open in that last gasp, that last moment of surprise. She was staring at me. Staring at me even though she was dead.

I bent down and gently closed her eyelids. They were warm beneath my fingers, and as I stood once again I was surprised that I could feel that at all. I was surprised that I could feel anything. But slowly, feeling and sound returned to the bedroom. Wind was rushing about me through the open door opposite, throwing the door-curtains about like duppies freshly born. The thought of that lingered for a moment – what if she had become a duppy? Forced to haunt this place forever? Was she watching me even now from that place between worlds? I let the thought simmer awhile in my head, then let it go.

She was beautiful. Even now as I stood there, shivering in the cool breeze I saw just how beautiful she was. Taller than many, her long dark brown locks and rich, dark complexion, she reminded me of home. Reminded me of the sun and the sea, the onshore breeze and the sight of cane arrows as they bobbed and weaved in the fields. She was almost perfect – perfect – a good person, a wonderful person.

But I did not love her. I could not. I am twisted inside. Rotten.

I wear personalities like a mask; slipping in and out of attitudes like they were gloves. She saw me. Saw right through me. Saw me as no one has ever seen me for a long time. But that was my fault. I grew lazy. I grew…tired. Not anymore.

Now I heard the blood pumping in my ears, could almost feel it surging through my veins. Each breath was deep, the thin air making me feeling as nauseous as I had when I had first arrived. I blinked and my vision clouded over, as though I was looking through frosted glass at a world filled with shuffling-wafting shadows.

I blinked, rubbed my eyes, turned to the end-table close at hand.

Two small glasses were set there, both filled to the brim with rum. I took one and drank it in a single gulp, half-nearly choking as it burned its way down my throat. Almost immediately I felt its effects – the gradual slowing of the mind, the numbing of the senses, the relaxation of spirit. God, but that was a strong. Nothing like it. Good thing I didn’t waste it. Resting the glass back on the table I turned to her once more. She had been so beautiful.

I stepped over the body and out onto the outside platform that overlooked the glittering city. For as far as the eye could see rose miles upon miles of colossal buildings supporting the sky like massive pillars in a hall of giants. It should have been noisy out there, what with the howling wind and the screaming of distant vehicles, but I heard little now that the alcohol was settling in once more.

At the very centre of the city, directly ahead of me, stood the tallest of the buildings. These people called it the Eye – a place that for all its lights and grandeur had no doors and no windows, save for one tiny slit in the stone which was hidden far up past the layer of low-lying clouds. They said that something there watched everything, some god-like being with fearsome power, ready to exact judgement on the evil and the twisted.

The moments passed, and yet I stood, unscathed by any bolt of divine lightning.

I sighed. I had loved this place. But now I had to leave. I could feel the bones in my hand trembling just so, as though in tune to a rhythm too low to hear. And then in an instant I felt myself being ripped to shreds until I was no more, leaving only the drops of blood about the spot where I had stood, and the body of the beautiful woman in the room behind.


antisunGREY v1.0 | © Copyright 2015, Brian Franklin. All rights reserved.