Great Dane ✶ Original Fiction

𝕯ois;

" MURDERER'S LAMENT "
04 november 1997

𝔅ut the only thing on Moses' mind was Rue. It was funny, actually, how when he was with one of the two girls, he'd think of the other and vice versa. Maybe it was his conscience.

As Iman continued on and on about a subject he had no current interest in, Moses took a draw from the cigarette in his right hand and began to think. He began to think about what his life would've been like if he hadn't murdered Rue.

Would his face still have its saturnine expression? Would he still have troubled nights adorned by nightmares and terror? Would he still be stalked by the ghost of iniquity or blessed by the beautiful presence of freedom?

"Hey, Moses, are you ok?" Through the slender, blue wreaths that curled from the tip of his cigarette, the young brunet could see the face of Iman. It appeared concerned. "What's wrong with you these days? Is there something going on between you and Rue?"

Yes. "No." He replied, forcing a reassuring grin.

"I can tell when you're lying."

"I'm not lying— it's just... we're in a rough patch in our relationship. That's all; we'll get better soon."

"Good." Iman smiled. "I'm hate to see such a beautiful couple go to waste."

For some odd reason, he digested her comment with annoyance. Wasn't it obvious he was interested in her? It seemed as though the only thing that could make her realise that was if he told her of the murder he committed only a few days prior. But, obviously, that wasn't an option.

Moses glanced at his watch. It was 1:45. "Uh, I have to go." He said, standing up.

"Ok, I'll see you on Friday?"

"Yeah, see you on Friday."

Moses was heading in the opposite direction of his apartment, Iman noticed when she looked up from the tea she was drinking. But she didn't know he was just stalling to go home and do what he had to do.

" THE REFLECTION "
04 november 1997

A gust of rotting meat hit Moses like a bat hits a ball as he opened the door of his home. In attempt to block out the repellent odour, the man pinched his nose with his fingers and scurried towards the bathroom.

He ignored the decomposing corpse of Rue (he would deal with it later) and grabbed the air freshener and sprayed every inch of the house.

The smell now had undertones of fruitiness, making it tolerable. Now, he could deal with his other problem.

He trodded towards the bathroom once again and inspected Iman. How was he going to do this? He touched the dead body but instantly retracted his hand when he felt the dry blood on his fingers.

"Ugh." Moses grimaced, taking yet another cigarette from his back pocket (he needed something to take the edge off, he reckoned).

Moses quickly lit it with unsteady, bloodstained fingers, and remembered when - on the day of the homicide - his girlfriend's face, pale to the point of blueness, kept writhing, contracting and twitching. When her eyes, dull with horror and lifeless with, well, lifelessness closed and then opened halfway then glared at him.

In the next moment, he could only try to recount how everything had come to this.