Status: Completed :-)
One Last Moment
One Last Moment
Cameron jumped upon hearing a small rustle in the leaves behind him. What he was doing was wrong, dead wrong, and illegal, but he didn’t really care. He wouldn’t have cared at all if he weren’t so worried about getting caught. With every bit of damp soil his shovel heaved from the earth, it became more and more apparent to Cameron that anyone could drive up to the cemetery, whip out a gun, and shoot him dead. But his drive to go forward with his plan overshadowed the worry, and after hours of relentless digging, he’d dug a fairly shallow hole. As soon as his shovel struck something hard, his chapped lips turned up into a devious smirk.
Under the light of the full moon, the black casket gleamed and Cameron could see his silhouette in it. His fingers struggled to undo the lock, shaking spastically with anticipation. The lock snapped off and soon the shaking spread to every other part of his body, partly from the fresh chill that washed over him, and from the sheer thrill of what he was about to do.
Cameron threw the lid open and he saw her. Her blonde hair framing her porcelain skin, cheek bones sunken in, arms stuck firmly to her sides from rig-o-mortis. She’d been thrown into this grave so carelessly; she hadn’t even been changed out of the clothes she died in. The blood stains that ran from her collar, down the front of her pink summer dress were brown now. Her fingernails were rotting. The lips that were once so plump, pink, and kissable were grey and flat, pressed into a tight line.
But with that being said, she was so peaceful, Cameron thought. Her eyes were closed and he knew she was still awake somewhere, or rather, merely asleep, dreaming an infinite dream. Lifeless, she was even more beautiful. So fragile. Breakable.
Cameron always couldn’t get enough of her. Even as the blade of his pocket knife slid so cleanly across the front of her neck, severing every major blood line from her head to her heart, he couldn’t help but find her agony and desperate pleads for help so, so endearing. He didn’t wash her blood from his hands for days afterward. Even when the police came to tell him the news of her death, he put on gloves and a coat to mask the stains. Now, weeks having passed, he missed her. He wanted one last moment with her.
Under the light of the full moon, the black casket gleamed and Cameron could see his silhouette in it. His fingers struggled to undo the lock, shaking spastically with anticipation. The lock snapped off and soon the shaking spread to every other part of his body, partly from the fresh chill that washed over him, and from the sheer thrill of what he was about to do.
Cameron threw the lid open and he saw her. Her blonde hair framing her porcelain skin, cheek bones sunken in, arms stuck firmly to her sides from rig-o-mortis. She’d been thrown into this grave so carelessly; she hadn’t even been changed out of the clothes she died in. The blood stains that ran from her collar, down the front of her pink summer dress were brown now. Her fingernails were rotting. The lips that were once so plump, pink, and kissable were grey and flat, pressed into a tight line.
But with that being said, she was so peaceful, Cameron thought. Her eyes were closed and he knew she was still awake somewhere, or rather, merely asleep, dreaming an infinite dream. Lifeless, she was even more beautiful. So fragile. Breakable.
Cameron always couldn’t get enough of her. Even as the blade of his pocket knife slid so cleanly across the front of her neck, severing every major blood line from her head to her heart, he couldn’t help but find her agony and desperate pleads for help so, so endearing. He didn’t wash her blood from his hands for days afterward. Even when the police came to tell him the news of her death, he put on gloves and a coat to mask the stains. Now, weeks having passed, he missed her. He wanted one last moment with her.