Victoria

The fire tosses and tussles in the air of the
stone bound chimney, as my vision blurs
and my thoughts shift to more morbid things.
The act is still fresh in my mind, and though
I washed the blood, I can still smell it on
my hands every time I raise my glass to take
a drink.
A sudden, sickening feeling overcomes me, as
I notice something wade its way out from the
dark corners of the room where the light
cannot reach.
My chair crashes to the floor as I watch her
run her long fingers along the book choked walls,
coming at last to rest on her knees, hands
neatly folded in her lap.
She does not move, only stares, leaving
my reaction up to me. I feel my throat constrict,
as my heart begins to pick up pace, playfully
jumping against my chest. My mind swirls,
and I begin to walk to regain balance.
The moist film over those fish like eyes
follows me as I pace across the room.
She seems supremely interested in my
movements, tracking my steps perfectly
as I pass between the fireplace and the
old desk.
The room shifts and morphs around me
as the light of the fire flickers, releasing
the ghosts that rest in the walls. Still I
pace between heat and emptiness,
the burn and the dark.
All along her position does not shift,
save for the movement of her head
and the odd twitch at the corner of her
gnarled grin. Her pale skin and oily,
black hair renders her a friend among
the specters.
Its her eyes though. Her eyes that haunt
me. Bulbous, glassy eyes with only a
speck of a pupil settled in the middle.
I want to pluck them out, to keep them
from looking at me with accusatory glee.
I stop in front of the fireplace, and allow
my hand to drift down those familiar steel
implements. It would easy enough,
and no one would believe that it had
existed at all.
I grab the poker to rush
in and attack when suddenly she is in
front of me, long, multi jointed limbs grabbing
me around the neck, a terrible wail unlike anything
natural pulsing out of its open grin. I collapse to the
floor, her reach finding me without any need to bend
as I feel my throat caving in under the pressure.
The unrelenting pressure.
Blood pools in the side of the eyes as I frantically
beat at those slimy, taunt limbs, as it continues to wail,
getting louder and louder, my ears ringing in protest
as the volume rises.
I scream as much as I can scream, begging her to stop,
please stop. I see a flash of recognition in her eyes, something
that had been lost under the surface. Tears come as shesays those
words, those words that I myself had ignored.
“Please stop Ben...It hurts.”
She releases me, as I gasp, coughing and hacking as I draw in
air, rubbing my throat. My hands are wet. My hands are wet?
I look down and see fresh crimson rising from my flesh.
She is trembling, her arms wrapped around her sides as
she rocks back and forth.
I am alive and she is dead and will stay dead.
Victorious to the end.
But then she gets a look in her eyes. She is smiling again.
She is smiling and my blood runs cold.
I try to run, but she grabs my hair, careening my head
against the mantle as I feel my limbs go limp.
Then, gently, she picks up my motionless
form and places it on the coals. Instantly
I cry out for what feels like forever as the heat
tugs against my flesh.
My last sight before my eyes melt is her righting
the chair and siting down, so that she could warm
those cold, dead limbs.