|main menu | forum | standard categories | authors | new stories | search | links | settings | author tools|
|A Psyche Collision (standard:Psychological fiction, 1914 words)|
|Author: Walker||Added: Apr 22 2008||Views/Reads: 1585/767||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|two pyscho minds collide...|
‘Living is a troublesome business: there is pain to be suffered, and it wrings one's heart; but death is a splendid thing: a task accomplished and a beginning all over again, a triumph. You can always see that in their white faces.' For him it all started with a desire, and turned into a need. And for her, she said it was pleasure; a kind of revenge. But because of her lust she acquired it and then it became an urge to pass it on, taciturnly. She displayed affection in her eyes that told him she had given her heart to him. He portrayed himself a wayward mind that was too much for just a woman to get hold of it. He told her that he was interested only in his thoughts, weird or familiar. She told him that she'd wait for him forever. He didn't give a second glance but somehow her name stuck and every time toxins got into him, that name would start ringing in his head. Those toxins gave such a hit that he could almost feel her touch, hear her voice and it felt as if she was right next to him. She became his ultimate fantasy and he would always keep thinking of things he would do to her. She was the next victim if he ever came across her again. He would, somehow he knew. Drugs were a bet with his mind, he knew all along. But every night as the clock struck a new hour, the intake of toxins increased and then his mind would wander deep into unknown territories of gore where he would imagine ways to find that girl and do her wild; slice, dice and chop her haphazardly and bury her body under her own house and leave her head hanging above the very bed they would warm up. He had even developed ideas of what to do with the tidbits. His mind that was ill at ease was agitated by both hope and fear. The continuous failures in finding her whereabouts were getting hard on him. He was losing hope and the fear of not executing his plan was getting hard on him. Result was the increase in intake of toxins and the fury deep within had made him ungratified. Everyone had renamed him loneliness and whenever her thoughts recurred he would cry softly into time. The cuts and bruises on his body marked his anger, the rage ready to be vented out. He had to find her now, at all costs. Her slaughter blended with carnage could quench his desires now. Death draws its own prey and finally she was discovered at a secluded place where everyone looked at her with prejudiced eyes. The people would maunder that she is a witch living alone and practicing black magic. This had happened after her parents had been murdered by feudal lords and she had been stripped of her pride. She had avenged herself through witchcraft. But he had found out the real story or had been told so, it really didn't matter. All he desired was to restore his calm and peace. Her parents had died and she would have been raped if she had not fled that place. She was now all alone. She needed a healing hand. So he decided to be the one. So he began keeping an eye over her to grab the first opportunity, first to win over her and then commit the murder. He knew she would not have forgotten him. And finally an opportunity knocked. He hadn't slept the whole night and in the wee hours of dawn he saw her going toward the hills. Quickly grabbing his coat he started walking after her. She was too entangled within her thoughts to notice him following. She kept walking and he followed till she reached the brink. She stood there while he gazed like a curios crow. But when he saw her spread her hands out he knew it was time to run to her. Just as she was about to make the plunge he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back. She struggled for a while but gave in and he pinned her to the ground. “Open your eyes and look at me,” he shouted. She slowly opened them. Her heart skipped a beat. “You...You're back.” “Yes and I've come to end your miseries.” Love bloomed and their intimacy increased. But still he waited. He had waited this long and now when he was so near his goal he could always wait a day or two more. He had to completely win over her trust. How could he do it? A marriage proposal would suffice. He sent across a bouquet and asked her out for dinner. There he would pop the question and... The fateful night had arrived. He wore a tuxedo and drove to her house. She was waiting eagerly for him. She had dressed the best she could in white; his favorite dislike. He smiled and they drove off. He had Click here to read the rest of this story (96 more lines)
Authors appreciate feedback!
Please vote, and write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!
Walker has 8 active stories on this site.
Profile for Walker, incl. all stories
For a quick, anonymous response to the author of this story, type
a message below. It will be sent to the author by email.