The Day after Porphyria’s Death
Not long after day break, had I awoken from my deep slumber, staring into the pure and angelic face of my beloved. The earlier warm and rosy cheeks had gained a tint of paleness to them and her exquisite and seductive lips from which the night before whispered the words “I love you” had become dry and somewhat faded in color. And though my love had remained motionless like a beautiful, porcelain doll, her scent and vigorous passion still ran hot in my veins. It was with this woman who I made my bed with and she would remain forever mine.
My hand brushed gently against her soft skin, which had not lost its warmth due to the previous nights embrace. A soft smile traced its way upon my lips before they slowly pressed down upon her forehead. Then, after a rather long glance, I stepped away from the lifeless body and headed towards the kitchen, where I scrambled some eggs on the stove and threw two bread slices into the toaster. There was no need to throw on much clothing since the room was still warm from the fire the night before and the heat of our wondrous connection.
As I took a seat, munching on my newly made breakfast, there was a knock upon my door. Who would dare to come to this cabin at such an hour and for what purpose? Should I be cautious to answer? But then, what would I to fear when I had done nothing wrong? Not even God had struck me down when I took away the very breath of the woman whom I loved. Just as quickly as it came, the concern left me and I walked towards the door.
To my surprise, the person behind that door was the very person with which my love spent the other half of her life with; however, she was no longer his. No… she was mine. She belonged to me now, and only me. He could no longer have her. As the thought crossed my mind, a twisted smile was placed upon my lips, and I watched as the color drained from his face. The man seemed rather confused and upset. Anyone would naturally feel these if they had lost something precious. Yet he had not known what had become of the one he searched for yet.
Apparently, someone had last seen Porphyria head toward the direction of this cabin. Seeing that the woman had never returned that night, the man had set out to find her. As if to confirm the information was true and to prove that she no longer belonged to him, I let the wretch in. As his gaze wandered throughout the cabin, he constantly asked me questions about my knowledge. The only reply he received was the same smile upon my lips that I gave him the moment I answered the door.
Upon seeing what lie in the bed, the color in his face quickly drained. He seemed at a loss at first, as though too horrified to know what to do. Then he turned on me, charging as though some raging animal. The cabin soon filled with shrill laughter, my laughter. This man could not take me down. He had no right to punish me when I had done nothing wrong. Who was he to think he could take my life, when even God allowed me the pleasure of living on.
Quick to act, I stepped aside from the charging creature before me and grasped a poker near the fireplace. Blood quickly splattered on the floor and walls as the point of the object struck the man’s head. The red substance stained the metal object, as well as my face; however, I was unaffected, for now there was no one in my way of having the graceful Porphyria all to myself. As I stood there grinning, God remained silent once more.