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Monday, May 9, 2011

Indie Ink - Waltz with Me

 My weekly Indie Ink writing challenge. This week I had kinda difficult time. Not sure if I fulfilled the challenge, but this is what I heard as scary as that is. Apparently I am channeling Stephen King because I have been dark the last couple challenges. This week I was challenged by Melissa who definitely provided me with a challenge. She asked me to listen to a piece of Franz Schubert's music and to then write a poem or flash fiction piece inspired by it. My challenge this week went to Cope. You'll be able to read the reply here.

What’s the matter dear? You haven’t touched your dinner. Eat up. I have something special planned for after dinner. There there now. Stop crying and drink your wine. Oh I almost forgot.  How’s that? It’s your favorite, isn’t it? I remember the first time I saw you listening to it. The way you sat there on the sofa. Your eyes closed. You tilted your head back ever so slightly. You allowed the music to encompass you. For the life of me I cannot understand how a woman of your caliber ended up with a bafoon like him. He is so beneath you.

Shhh darling. Here. Let me feed you. Open wide. Yes, that’s a good girl. Listen at that violin. Isn’t it marvelous? I do my best work to this piece. That is why I chose it specifically for you. You’re the most spectacular specimen I have found. Only the best for you, dear. There now. See that wasn’t so bad now, was it? How was the duck? Exquisite, no? Jean makes the best confit of duck. She would be pleased to know I had chosen it for your last meal. 

Stop blubbering. You’ll ruin your make up.  Now just let me clear these dishes away. Guess what’s for dessert? Strawberry cheesecake. I know how much you love strawberry cheesecake. I picked the strawberries fresh this morning from the garden just to make this for you, darling. Aren’t you going to thank me? Of course not, you’re a selfish sniveling cunt who only thinks of herself, aren’t you? If you hadn’t been so selfish, then you might not be in this predicament, but no, you couldn’t hold the door for me when I specifically asked you to. You were too wrapped up in that snot nosed brat that was pawing at you. Women are all the same. No matter how much you give to them, they never appreciate it.  I worked hard all day preparing all of your favorite foods and you have yet to thank me.

All you can do is blubber like a cow. Filthy animals. Are you a cow? Of course you are. You let those brats feed on you like little baby cows. In that case, it seems only fitting I have them for my dinner tomorrow night. I mean you raised them like cows so why shouldn’t I treat them like cows? Ahh, do you hear that? Do you hear how elegantly the bow slides across the strings? Shhh this is my favorite part. Listen. It is orgasmic, don’t you think? 

I fancy myself an artist. Most are not capable of understanding the complexities of my work. I don’t hold this against them. It isn’t their fault their parents were unclean and therefore destined them to a life of inferiority. I see the world as it truly is.  I do not allow myself to become burdened by the day to day frivolities the way others do. This is why I must do my work. To free them. Like this poor troubled soul that sits before me.  Awww, it ended. You know what that means don’t you? Your end has come too.  Shh, this will only hurt for  a moment.


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