This is my entry for the Fool's Duel. It is...Very morbid. But I like it. Shred it, just as Sebastian did! (You'll get that comment later....)
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Dear Whoever,
I am a silhouette of myself. I have become nothing more than a two-dimensional outline of what I once was. I am a darkened figure upon the oh so pure white, and never to be shadowed, world. That is what I am silhouette against, the morals and righteousness of the world. They seem to misunderstand me, and my motives of action. In becoming this silhouette I have lost everything. My wife has left me and my children are terrified of me. Though I can say, I never loved them, so all I am loosing is a grip on this world. And as I have said, I am the darkened figure against the world. (Forgive my redundancy; I am not in the best of minds right now.) That makes it alright to lose this world; I am meant to oppose it.
Yours cynically,
Sebastian.
He folded the letter into thirds and slid it into its envelope. Sebastian felt it was better to leave a letter like this than to face his crimes. The warrant for his arrest was out already, when would they be coming for him? Not that it mattered, he wouldn’t be around for them to find.
He licked the envelope's seal, and closed up the letter. He had never liked licking envelopes’ edges; he had a fear that he might cut his tongue.
“But I will cut more than my tongue tonight,” he whispered. The house was so silent without his family. It still smelled of blood and semen; Sebastian had made no effort to clean up after himself and his indecent act.
He left the envelope at his desk and went into the kitchen. From there, he picked the knives up off the cold tile. They were scattered about, and all covered in blood. The body still lay on the sofa in the other room: raped, abused, and killed. He ordered the knives from largest to smallest on the counter top, and tried to find one that he liked. Sebastian eyed the ones with teeth the most. He liked to think that rather than slicing his skin, he would be shredding it open, because that always seemed like a more vulgar way to go about killing ones self.
The large, ridged knife on the end was the best. He left the others in their orderly manner and waltzed, for he did not want to walk in his last moments, to the living room. Sebastian lifted up the rag doll body of the young girl and pushed it to the side.
“May I sit with you?”
The body leaned against his shoulder in a way that would make any other man cringe with disgust, for it was a dead body that smelled and rot, but Sebastian didn’t mind. She had been beautiful in life, so why should he push her away now for rotting and bleeding?
He rolled up his sleeves in a nonchalant way. He had planned the majority of this from the beginning. But his wife’s leave and his suicide had not been planned. Sebastian had only wanted to bring the girl into his house, make love to her against her will as much as he wanted and then sadistically torture her until she died. Was that so wrong?
“I’ll be seeing you soon, Moya Sterva.” He kissed the bloated corpse on her puffy lips and then began to shred at his wrists with the knife.
The silhouette soon faded into nothing. His darkness was gone.
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*Moya sterva is Russian for 'my slut' though it may be an incorrect translation on my part; I'd need Dreamy or Imp's approval.
