They sat quietly as the butterfly took flight again, fluttering away into the distance. Gentle Whisper missed its brief light touch. He glanced over at Leslie, careful to keep his voice soft,
“So what happens now, dearest?”
Leslie Orange drew in a deep breath,
“By rights, I should kill you.”
He knew that she would say that. He swallowed the sudden taste of fear. Gentle knew, then, that he would not be given another chance. He took in her carefully blank face, the clenched fists. He sighed,
“Doing so will ultimately lead your descent into madness.”
She met his eyes and nodded,
“Yes, I know.”
He had to ask,
“Is this what you want?”
She didn’t answer him.
Gentle didn't need one.
He didn’t want to fade. He didn’t want to escape. Gentle only wanted to touch her one last time, to feel her warmth before she turned on him.
He reached for her and it proved fatal. Gentle was calm as her teeth and claws tore into him. It was so surreal that he thought, at first, that he was mistaken by how quickly his death was coming.
His eyes, filled with regretful love, locked with her empty ones as she slowly and methodically devoured him.Then he was gone.
© copyright January 19, 2011 by Ren Thompson
3 Word Wednesday