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Howling At God submitted 2008.12.20 01:34 AM by antius777 viewed 793 times

For Ess2s2's 600 word Flash Fiction Contest


TITLE: "Howling At God"
USED: phrase "Scarlett Johansson"
WORD COUNT: 600 exactly

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I sat back in the plush navy chair and stared at her. Her skin was still moist from the shower, her hair damp and framing her face in loose curls. It had been the lips that had first attracted me to her, they were full and sensuous. No, that's a lie... it had been the small silver crucifix that had hung around her neck. That talisman, delicately playing there by her slender neck, that was what initially grabbed me.

We had talked for a few moments after the movie, after I had maneuvered myself to "accidentally" bump into her. In a gentlemanly show, I helped her gather her items from her fallen purse. Here with a friend, I put on the charm, not too thick but just enough to reel her in. She went for it with the few choice words I peppered my conversation with, a half dozen carefully chosen phrases. Almost too easily, she was on my arm on our way to get coffee.

I listened attentively. I really did want to hear all the things she had to say. It helps me to understand. I fed her all my best lines and I could see the sparkles in her eyes. I love that look, I love the feeling of spinning closer into the orbit of someone's precious world. And girls like this, these kind, they so desperately want to be loved.

In my chair, I shake my head in amazement at her body. Her breasts were quite a bit larger than I had thought they would be. When that sweater came off, I was almost shocked. Everything recently trimmed and shaven, too. That was a nice plus. I catch myself smiling as I look at her. Who does she remind me of? A past girl, or... no. A celebrity, that pretty Scarlett Johansson. Yes, it's the lips and the eyes.

The way they stare back at me, those eyes, I find such comfort. They know in these last minutes. Eyes finally reflected the truth back, an understanding. That was why I picked her. Not for her beauty, although she was undoubtedly beautiful, but for that small silver crucifix. I had to release her, I had to let her have her freedom.

It's always so simple to get the powder into their coffee.

They think they're sick at first, and I offer to help them out to a taxi. Once we're outside, it's nothing to get them to my car, the one I've already parked at the coffee shop. And I know I've got time. The concoction paralyzes them for at least twelve hours. And let's be honest, I never need that long.

I brought her back to my house, into my garage. With as much care as I could, I carried her inside and down to my basement. Everything I needed was there, already prepared. I laid her down on the bed and removed her clothing, stripping away what barriers she had clung to. In the bathroom I designed myself, I bathed her, washing away years of filth that may have built up. I won't lie, I pleasure myself with her, but that's incidental; it's not relevant to my mission.

Now with both of us cleansed, I return her to the bed. It's covered in white plastic sheets. There's a tray beside her filled with an array of tools and devices that I'll use here shortly. She will be awake and feel everything, but unable to move or scream. But she'll be screaming inside. I'll know it. And God will know it.

Most importantly, he will know...

rating: 4

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