Crying Over Poison

October 24, 2010
By mihaela1229 BRONZE, Lucedale, Mississippi
mihaela1229 BRONZE, Lucedale, Mississippi
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
to judge a book by its cover is to miss out on a good story... to judge someone by their appearance is to miss out on a good friendship... to judge me by my past is to be proved wrong before it's all over...
~ M ~


Dark, gloomy, starless nights, our little town was famous for those. "The City of Gloom" was its nick-name.
"No!" he shouted at me.
I screamed back at him.
Fear struck him. His eyes lost their sparkle. His body shook violently. "You wench! You've poisoned me!"
"I've done nothing, Thomas!" My rage was getting the better of me.
"My breast is clenched so that I cannot breathe. My mouth is dry as if I've had nothing to drink. It is a sign of poisoning!"
I could not believe his accusation. He should have known me better.

Later that night, while in our chambers, he rested peacefully in deep slumber. I brought my candle to his face.
"I wish your final breath to leave you," I hissed.
A tear escaped my eye, and I brought the candlabra down on his forehead. I just wanted my bit of revenge.
I found a few hours of restless sleep, but eventually was jerked from the unpleasant world of my dreams. Upon my waking, I found that my husband seemingly had no breath left.
"Oh, dear God!" I whispered. "I've killed him."
Outside it was still dark. I drug him out by his feet. It took hours to dig out the hole. My arms ached, but I had to put the body into the hollow earth. Once I had let the dirt swallow his body, I went back to our home and chased my evil visions of death away.

The next morning I woke to the sound of knocking on my door. Wrapping a thin, silk robe around myself I peered out of the window, and I saw a single hand protruding from the soft ground. I only shook my head.

The trial for the murder I've commited has taken place. I've been proclaimed guility, and as punishment for my crime has been decided. I am to be thrown into the catacombs, where my bones will lie and my spirit will wander for the rest of eternity.


The author's comments:
The best things are usually those that come from the deepest recess of one's mind, whether that part of them be a psychopathic killer or a bubbly chatterbox. This took a lot of hard work on my part. It required me to dig deep within myself and find something that would be enjoyable to me and would please me. A writer shouldn't aim to please their readers. He/She should be satisfied with their own work over anything else because writing is a way to express oneself and have no fear of judgement. Someone else enjoying these works of art is only a bonus.

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