Damn You Wind

By: Fox

To Slit A Throat

The sky burned vermilion as mist soaked the choking ground. All was silent, the

gods knew what was to happen this night. A slight breeze came from the west, where the

winter sun was sinking below the horizon; threatening a challenger.


She is staring into a deamons eyes, not knowing of the contrivance of death that

sparked like fire in his eyes. It was secluded by a twinkle of light, and happiness. She

moved so gracefully, her hand movement, to lift her wine to her lips. Her neck turned to

face the waiter.

* * *

The storm grew stronger outside, the wind, trying to warn her of her destiny.

“Defy me wind, I dare you.” I thought. She is mine, she deserves to die, doesn’t she?


How to do it, I had intended on slitting her throat. But her neck, it is so secure

and elegant. I can still see it. The purity defiled by something stronger. Spreading down

her neck to her chest and on. Her eyes widening in panic, her exquisite hands covered in

life. Her lips forming, asking the same question repetitively. “Why?” She cannot talk, but

her eyes speak for her.


Why? Oh, sister, don’t you see? You got everything! The beauty, the

intelligence, but I will outdo you this time. Now see who is smarter, who will be alive to

see the sun rise to a new day. I’ve got you, sister, now who will mother and father

be proud of? Their daughter dead in the streets, not smart enough to hear the wind? Or

their son, still alive and breathing in life?


“Are you okay?” The blood is gone and her eyes are locking mine. She looks so

innocent and harmless, as she takes her hands and places them over my own.


How else could I do it? To see the brilliance of her vital fluid against the paleness

of her skin, and my own. But to put crevice that strong muscle... to see fright and

ill-treatment in her eyes, does not seem such a wicked thought. I can’t corrupt something

as ravishing as that.


To pierce her heart, physically and mentally is understandable, also. The

river staining the blade, soaking the floor, so that I might bathe in the despicable. She’s

suspecting something, damn you wind. The way she shifts in her chair, and her long

fingers play with her napkin. How her eyes shift towards the window...damn you

wind.


“Are you all right?” I ask her this with beneficent meaning. I stare into her eyes,

praying. Please be all right, don’t suspect, I need you. This is the truth, my eyes present a

wanting that she perceives. She doesn’t know how much I want her, to see her defiled, to

see her blood on my hands.


She smiled. Imperfect teeth, yellowed with years of smoking. I saw her mouth,

ruby flowing out of the corners. It was as if she was a vampire, just finished feasting on

their prey. As if she was the blood-thirsty one, instead of me.


Her eyes, crystal blue. You can see right through them, like the ocean on a sunlit

day. I can see her now, crying tears of crimson, hiding the blush on her face and painting

her lips. Her beautiful blonde hair clinging to her face and neck, now fiery.


Her hands held mine again. Her wrists neatly on the table. That’s it, slit her

wrists, they are not a strong as her neck. Sigh, but such a slow death. I haven’t enough

conversation left to have a lengthy dialogue. Silting her neck, her hands vised around the

laceration, at least enough time for me to laugh are her face, and explain why I had to do

it.


“Can we go?” The storm is getting worse.” Damn you wind, I smirk.

“Of course.”

“It’s chilly tonight.” She says, cuddling her jacket. What was that look she gave

me? That sly flicker of her eyes, that smirk? What is she plotting? No! Fool that you

are, you are the one plotting, don’t get jumpy. Do it now, slice that precocious snow

colored neck, paint the canvas red.


The wind blows hard, too vigorous. She turns too soon, she knows. The blood

runs briskly down the neck, soaking the clothes and the land. The eyes are staring at the

killer, asking why. Herculean hands holding the injury and their tongue tasting blood.


She stands over me, the knife in her hands. Her neck expands from her gaze at the

heavens. She sighs and I see her breath exit her. “Thank you wind. Goodbye brother,

looks like I am the intelligent one after all.” She whispers. I close my eyes and my

dripping hands fall limply to my side.


Damn you wind...

DAMNYOUW
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