A mother is a boys best friend!

A mother is a boy's best friend.

My name is of no importance to you. Please do not go looking for me. For those who try, I’m sorry. I just hope someone will miss you. I am not a bad man, I’m a working man. People have a habit of giving things names so, if you need to call me something I’ll leave that to you. Now if you’ll excuse me... I have work to do.

A lifeless vessel lays face down in a pool of itself. It’s Crimson blood spilling away from what was once standing, breathing, living only moments before. Standing back my canvas paints itself on the ice cold wooden floor, filling every crevasse, nook, cranny. Stepping back to not disrupt my work I’m greeted with squeaks from the floorboards. My work continues to spread as its smell fills my lungs. The taste of blood now eases down from my salivating mouth. My taste buds scream for more and that’s what I give them.

The blood lay stagnant. The wood left to drink my graceful gift. From my pockets I pull out two shower caps and my beloved faded Marigolds. Slipping on my gloves first I put one cap on each foot. I take my first steps onto my almost finished product, feeling like a celebrity stepping across my red carpet to thank her. A muffled blood soaked squeak accompanies me as I bend down and brush her cheek. Her ice cold flesh freezing my finger tips through my gloves. Turning her over to see into her eyes, a soulless vessel stairs back. A faint hint shows her final moments of fate terror and acceptance. Blonde locks covering what’s left from her gorgeous colorless lips. Leaning in to deliver her one last kiss, pulling back to see her rosy lips return to there petrified state. Her last words still ringing in the halls of my brain.

“Why!”

“I’m just doing my job.”



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I just finished this very short story for my Intro to Fiction Writing and wanted to share it since I've kinda been neglecting my blog posts like a prom night dumpster baby. :( I blame school!