Tellement de filles #1

The drapes were a silk cocoon of sloppy hurriedness to reconnect leg to torso. Spider webs of scarlet formed stained glass squares in the creases of his pale lips. So translucent and so peaceful were his fingers. Not clawing at a woman’s back in faux passion, not playing idly with a lock of her hair flirtingly. He wasn’t irresistible or dominant and demanding. He was simply dead. He was an empty corpse. He was there.

It was assuring for me to think these remote feelings towards my husband. I knew it would be easy to sleep in this bed after the body was removed. It would be so easy. The only question that bothered me was why…He had never hit me, he’d only ever cursed at me once, he’d cheated numerous times, but so did everyone else’s husband so it didn’t bother me at all. And yet, I felt a weight lifted from my back, it was easier to breathe, and it was calming to sit at the edge of my bed and cling to a lifeless hand. I guess the why wasn’t really important.

The who was what was nagging at me. I was not vexed and I didn’t want revenge, but it nearly brought a smile to my lips how ironic the situation proved to be. Sleeping around on me, that fool of a serpent, and in my bed. Now he lay in it, severed from his manhood. Very intriguing how one could be so clever, sadistic, and humorous. I felt nothing but awe and respect for this woman. I’d already depicted the gender. It was plenty more comical when a woman was put to blame for this particular act. It could have very well been one of the women that he had been with.

Maybe he didn’t treat her right. Maybe he told her that he loved her but didn’t mean it. Anything could have triggered it actually. There were so many crazed girls always looking for their next love and never getting the real thing because it simply didn’t exist. Love was just a façade. That’s what my mother had told me when I was just a child. I think she might have ruined it for me, because after that all of my dreams of a prince charming were crushed, and all the wonderful men that approached me appeared empty. That was until Adren had come along. Our entanglement wasn’t really considered a relationship. We simply had an acquaintance, a deal of sorts that we were to be married because we looked good together and that was that. There was no love, there was no envy when we were looked upon by someone of the opposite sex, there was hardly ever even conversation.

I’d never really had time to feel anything for him. I didn’t even think to change my last name for him. Now he was gone. Just gone, and in no time at all really. I’d only been gone for an hour…I wondered if the murderess was still in the room, watching me. I shuddered at the thought. If she were in my closet waiting for me to let my guard down.

I took a peek over my shoulder boldly and then stood up when I heard movement.

“Who’s in here?” I asked shakily, fumbling with the hem of my skirts. There was no answer. Of course there was no answer. No one was there. I turned back hurriedly to the body, filling my eyes with as much of him as possible knowing that after tonight I’d never view it again.

There’s something that everyone has to learn. That one thing, seems unimportant now, but in actuality it connects ever unspoken secret and every entwined thought. Lifelessness, in itself, is intriguing. Everyone knows. Everyone has thoughts about it. When there is nothing in front of you but flesh and unused muscle…pools of blood, and the cold air of an asunder soul, you think. Oh, you think. You think maybe you would trade places with that body. Not out of anger or helplessness. You want it because, you can have it. You can give it to yourself. It is the only thing that you can give to yourself that no one else can take.

He got it. Him, of all people. Well what was so important about him anyway? Why did his life need to be ended? Some hurt girl, I knew, would be the cause. I’d find out who it was. I knew all about his girls. There were so many servants so many quests that had come to the manor that I knew he had an interest in…but there could only be six. Or less. I don’t really remember. The times were so blurry and I remember being filled with hurt and disgust. I hated when those pealed-flesh-red-lipped whores touched my things. It made my stomach cringe and bile rise in my throat to know that those people I shared ohsosweet before supper chit chat with were eyeing the ring on my finger knowing exactly where I put it away at night. Smiling sinisterly as she sipped from my glasses and beckoned my servants to her side.

My skin was left crawling. There are things that you want to look so deep into at times just to have a glimpse of how they work. My mind is not one of those things. It works in terrible ways. I know it. Some just call me insane. Some say that I just see the world a different way. Both are very true, to an extent. I am the one that needs to find the answer. I have twitches in my thoughts. Permanent twitches that take whatever I am thinking and wad it until it is mush and nothing survives. I melt. I am constantly melting. But when I am allowed to think. My thoughts are brilliant. Right now, I wanted to be brilliant. I wanted to find who killed my husband. I wanted to touch them with my hot beating fingers and see if their skin had iced over with guilt. Most of all, I wanted to thank them, and then I wanted them to die.

Someone out there killing because of a broken heart was worthless. The world had no use for them. They had obviously served their purpose. They had posted their art. I felt it my duty. I would not kill them myself however. The court would take care of the sentence.

I gingerly walked over to my husband, my footsteps sounding around the room as if my shoes were small drums. Every crack and creak was his eyes turning toward me. Every twitch and shuffle of fabric as I bent toward him was a whisper. So many whispers there were. I could not help but to slide my hot clumsy hands at his sides and kiss him swiftly on the lips. It only quieted him for a few seconds. The whispers grew louder when I parted from him…they were trying to fool me. They wanted me to miss something. No. I had felt it in the silk sheets. I searched again, the edges of my mind closing dangerously fast and threatening to cave.

Something foreign and cold slid between my fingers and I withdrew it from the folds, twisting it over and over until it revealed itself to my dim eyes. A fuchsia ribbon. A clue. I smiled and rubbed the blood off of my lips before soothing Adren’s cheek. He could not keep me from it. I would gather up his life again, his secrets, and his faults and I would rebuild him from them. Then I would know who did it.

A darker piece, but an admirable one. The only things I think should be considered is the beginning where the protagonist describes the scene of her husband's death. I think you should explain how she found this; you know, like she walked in on the scene or what? That's your call. The only other thing is the paragraph that starts with "He got it." ends on a confusing note, because I'm not sure who the protagonist was referring to as 'she' in the ending sentence..

Otherwise, this is one of the best I've seen on here..

seems needlessly wordy. i think there is way too much introspection here, even it is just a first part. i didn't find myself so fascinated by the narrator's thoughts that i didn't want to know what was happening in the actual story.

but as this is part one, i don't want to judge too much without reading part two. you definitely have talent in creating a unique voice.

think these remote feelings towards my husband.

How do “think” feelings? Wouldn’t you feel feelings?

He had never hit me, he’d only ever cursed at me once, he’d cheated numerous times, but so did everyone else’s husband so it didn’t bother me at all.

This sentence isn’t that long, but it feels longer than it really is, mostly because of the second half that starts “he’d cheated.” If I were you, I’d make that whole thing a separate sentence and try to make it less jumbled; right now it feels like it’s just spinning off into…confusion.

Sleeping around on me, that fool of a serpent, and in my bed.

Yes, of course it didn’t bother her. *rolls eyes*

I’d already depicted the gender.

I think you mean “deciphered.” Otherwise this sentence doesn’t make sense.

It was plenty more comical when a woman was put to blame for this particular act.

Two things: “plenty” bugs me and I don’t thing it’s the right word here, also, you have a tense issue here “was plenty more comical” / “was put to blame,” I think you want that first one in future: “would be” rather than “was.” Or sumsuch.

Anything could have triggered it actually.

Nix the “actually.”

“Who’s in here?” I asked shakily, fumbling with the hem of my skirts.

This seems out of character: this whole time she’s been calm and rather detached, and now she’s suddenly all nervous? I can understand that it’s probably because this is her life at risk now, but you might want to emphasize that so as to make this less jarring.

with as much of him as possible knowing that after tonight

need a comma after “possible”

connects ever unspoken secret

“every”

You want it because, you can have it.

nix comma

There were so many servants so many quests that had come to the manor that I knew he had an interest in…but there could only be six.

First off, this is a bit of a confusing sentence. Second, you’ll want a comma after “servants” and what exactly do you mean by “quests”? Do you mean people on quests? Or do you mean some hitherto-unknown creature called a quest?

My skin was left crawling.

avoid the passive voice

Both are very true,

Both what? Both people? Both viewpoints? Please clarify.


Okay, just a general note here: your verb tenses are…confusing. I’m not really sure how to explain it, since you stay in the past tense, but half the time you seem to be describing present actions with past tense verbs and then it seems like you really want your verbs solidly in the past. I’m not sure what you could do to fix this, it just kinda bugged me. Maybe go through and take a look at your verbs, at what time-frame you intended to portray with them.

I felt it my duty. I would not kill them myself however.

Eh, feels choppy. Maybe leading with “however” or a similar word would make the transition smoother.

Every crack and creak was his eyes turning toward me. Every twitch and shuffle of fabric as I bent toward him was a whisper.

Wait, I thought he was dead. Or is he only mostly dead? Or is this metaphorical? Or is it all in her head? Please clarify!


Overall

Well, not a lot of action, but good character development and build-up. An idea: when she’s describing how much she hates/hated “those pealed-flesh-red-lipped whores,” why not give an actual example? Describe a scene, in flashback or memory or whathaveyou, of a time when one of these ladies stayed over. It would give you a chance to do some dialogue and action as well as further building up your main character and introducing us a little better to the husband.

Liked the descriptions. However, a bit too much telling rather than showing right in the beginning. Otherwise I really liked it. The setting was cool, and the plot (what we've seen of it) was great. Keep writing.

Awesomely dark. This was very enjoyable to read and left me itrigued for part two. The beginning was a little overdone and confusing though...I prefer beginnings that don't beat around the bush (but that's just me). You have great character development going, and I'm curious to see where this will go. Well done!

Introverted? Definitely. But beautifully so, and I was kept interested the whole way through.

The only problem I had with it was the sudden change in the narrator's mood. She seemed so cool, almost mocking the whole scenario at the beginning, and then she abruptly became fearful of the killer. In the same contradicting manner, she first tells the readers that she holds no particular affection for her husband and his sleeping around doesn't bother her, but by the end she's gritting her teeth (figuratively) at his mistresses and kissing his dead lips, which seems to me significant of some sort of love...

So, those aspects make it a little rambly and make the character hard to believe. If you can justify her mood changes, the story would be a lot more enjoyable.

However, the style itself is, as I already said, beautiful. Even if it turns out to have no plot and the most detestable characters ever invented (not saying it will!), it will be a pleasure to read just for the lovely prose.