April 17, 2013 by misterblank22
*Note to Reader: I feel I should say this, there is a deep point to the “evilness” in this story and it does not reflect me in any way. I apologize if this may be dark and I’ve had a hard time writing such mean characters.
Gabriel washed the orphan’s blood from his hands. He laid the leather whip over the body of the boy’s mother. He stared blankly at his stone face in the mirror. After several minutes of examining himself a whimper distracted him and he turned. A wounded boy cried in the corner. Gabriel threw a large rock at the boys face sending a gash across his head.
“Keep yourself composed, you’ll wake your mother!” Gabriel screamed at the boy who stared blankly at the body of his mom at his feet.
“If you don’t stop this squealing you’re finished!” Gabriel pressed his forefinger to the boy’s forehead. Gabriel leaned onto the sink of that dark bathroom. “The sky is burning boy, it’s an eye that keeps blinking and won’t let anyone see!” Gabriel began to scratch his face causing blood to drip to the floor.
Hoover raised his head from his pillow to look around. He could hear the morning birds chirping and the doorman’s voice. A horse’s feet tapped the ground in an echoing rhythm. Hoover covered up the woman laying next him with a thin white sheet. He moved her hair from her face, she breathed heavily. Strung across the room in a mixture were Hoover and the woman’s cloths.
“Degradation, a life filled with it.” Hoover mumbled to himself. The woman let out a mornings sigh and put Hoover’s round glasses over his pointy nose.
“What time is it?” She asked.
“Half past 8, we slept in, the carriage should be here soon.” Hoover gazed at the towering clock in the corner.
“Why do you have to go? Just stay here and enjoy the day with me, please Hoover.” She begged in an annoying tone. Hoover tightened his lips angrily.
“It’s a story of a century honey, if I don’t tell it someone else will. You want children don’t you?” Hoover said in hopes of keeping her from speaking on the subject any further. He’d prefer disease over children but he’d rather be stricken with death then speak to his wife, a wife he tried not to love.
“Love forever?” She said as she held his hand. He quickly stood up and pulled on his pants and boots.
“Till death grant us separation.” Hoover buttoned his shirt. He tried not to laugh at his sly use of words.
“When you get back I’ll throw the most extravagant parties, we’ll dance till the sun sets and dance again till it rises.” She exclaimed.
“Of course my dear.” Hoover pulled her head to his lips for a quick goodbye kiss. His wife was then stricken with fear as he shut the door behind him. She felt as if the only man she’d ever loved had said his final goodbyes and in an aloof way. She questioned his love.
Outside Hoover’s breath swirled up to the sky as his black boots pressed against the cold street. From the fog emerged a dark horse and carriage. Before entering with his small bag he threw his wedding ring into the sewer. He slammed the carriage’s door and looked up at the window where he knew his wife would stand until his return. He held back the distraught emotions he had kept repressed for years before barking out his destination.