Post by OscarWillebeest on Apr 3, 2008 11:01:09 GMT -5
His one good eye watered its depravity, the other one, the milky white blindly embellished the sickening dissoluteness of his twisted mind. “Well, there is this new girl, Catherine. She needs to be tamed…”
I knew then that I have to kill him, slowly and excruciatingly: Drilling holes through his kneecaps, then slitting his eyeballs with a razor. Yet, outwardly I grinned in anticipation: “Let me at her”
......
“But the poor, how do they love?”
“What do you mean.”
“Just what I have asked, Catherine: how do they love? Differently than the rich?”
“Oh, I really do not think so. Personally I think that love is ever present, love is universal, wherever people are to be found.”
“True, but still, I have always presumed the poor to love in a different manner.”
“You are quite wrong, you know.”
“No, I do not think so. I am quite sure that the rich love whenever they want to, whenever they are not willfully otherwise occupied. The poor mostly have a lot of time on their hands; mostly have not much else going for them. Therefore they pursue love as their ultimate. Yes, that is it.”
He now turned sideways, and looked into her eyes. With mouth slightly parted she faced him as he gently took her into his arms.
“I do not know whether or not I am right, Catherine, and I probably never will, All I know is that I love you as a poor man would, someone whose mind is unfettered by the mundane.”
Then his face bent down towards her, and she softly closed her eyes, lips eagerly awaiting his tender kiss, all of her feminity trembling with a wantonness she has suppressed for far too long…"
But the sweetness of lips hungrily meeting were not meant to be, for his mind was suddenly overcome with a blackness that clouded out even his burning desire to consummate his perfect love for the fair Catherine. With an urgency born of desperation he disengaged himself from her loving embrace.
Her heart refused to cope with this new reality, refused to accept the dreadful emptiness that began to flood her being. Arms still akimbo, lips still parted in needful anticipation, she silently stared as he started to jog across the street.
Then her breath surfaced in short gasps, and she finally managed to shout her despair at the rapidly disappearing beau: "Sweetheart, oh sweetheart! What is amiss?" For she knew that whatever it was that forced his untimely departure, things would never ever be the same betwix them.
Despondently she now sinks to the ground, tears of disappointment welling up in her beautiful eyes, her body once more atremble, but not because of lust, as he, still running, shouted over his shoulder: "Be right back, my beloved! It is almost closing time, and I still need to buy a bottle!"
I knew then that I have to kill him, slowly and excruciatingly: Drilling holes through his kneecaps, then slitting his eyeballs with a razor. Yet, outwardly I grinned in anticipation: “Let me at her”
......
“But the poor, how do they love?”
“What do you mean.”
“Just what I have asked, Catherine: how do they love? Differently than the rich?”
“Oh, I really do not think so. Personally I think that love is ever present, love is universal, wherever people are to be found.”
“True, but still, I have always presumed the poor to love in a different manner.”
“You are quite wrong, you know.”
“No, I do not think so. I am quite sure that the rich love whenever they want to, whenever they are not willfully otherwise occupied. The poor mostly have a lot of time on their hands; mostly have not much else going for them. Therefore they pursue love as their ultimate. Yes, that is it.”
He now turned sideways, and looked into her eyes. With mouth slightly parted she faced him as he gently took her into his arms.
“I do not know whether or not I am right, Catherine, and I probably never will, All I know is that I love you as a poor man would, someone whose mind is unfettered by the mundane.”
Then his face bent down towards her, and she softly closed her eyes, lips eagerly awaiting his tender kiss, all of her feminity trembling with a wantonness she has suppressed for far too long…"
But the sweetness of lips hungrily meeting were not meant to be, for his mind was suddenly overcome with a blackness that clouded out even his burning desire to consummate his perfect love for the fair Catherine. With an urgency born of desperation he disengaged himself from her loving embrace.
Her heart refused to cope with this new reality, refused to accept the dreadful emptiness that began to flood her being. Arms still akimbo, lips still parted in needful anticipation, she silently stared as he started to jog across the street.
Then her breath surfaced in short gasps, and she finally managed to shout her despair at the rapidly disappearing beau: "Sweetheart, oh sweetheart! What is amiss?" For she knew that whatever it was that forced his untimely departure, things would never ever be the same betwix them.
Despondently she now sinks to the ground, tears of disappointment welling up in her beautiful eyes, her body once more atremble, but not because of lust, as he, still running, shouted over his shoulder: "Be right back, my beloved! It is almost closing time, and I still need to buy a bottle!"