I Gave You My Heart

May 22, 2012
By xxOwlByMyselfxx BRONZE, Webster City, Iowa
xxOwlByMyselfxx BRONZE, Webster City, Iowa
1 article 0 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
Music is the strongest form of magic.
~Marilyn Manson~

She awoke with a sharp bolt of pain and then everything went cold and numb. Her vision was blurry at first, but she soon realized she was underwater, lying on the bottom of the lakebed. As she peered into the murky waters she began to fear for her life. She was sure she would drown, but she drew no breath. How is it she didn’t need to breathe? She jerked back her head as her memory flashed back into her mind like a camera.

The dialogue was muffled; she couldn’t make out what was spoken. But she could feel the pain. She was in a dimly lit room, a somewhat romantic atmosphere, turned ghastly. She felt her heart slow as she took a sip of wine. Then she began to choke, the wine had been poisoned. Someone leaped on her like a spring; she could not make out the face. Then she felt deep, splitting pain in her arms and chest over and over again. She could not bear to watch as her attacker continued to stab the faded memory of herself until her image had bled onto the floor.
She used all of her might to swim back up to the surface of the lake. She felt no need to draw breath as her head broke the surface. She emerged out of the lake, with a wobbly, unsure step. Her skin had turned blue and clammy and her dress was torn, stained and covered in algae. Her jewels were all missing. She was sopping wet, covered in sediment. Dirt had collected under her fingernails and toes. Her hair had grown longer, blacker, and hung in front of her face like a curtain of string. She stunk of decay and lake smell. “Am I dead?” she thought to herself, “I can’t be dead. I’m awake. I just want to go home…… home.”
She staggered up the hill, not looking back at the lake, or up at the sky. It didn’t even feel like she was walking at all, no matter how many times she tripped on her bare feet. She finally reached the main street of town. The streetlamps had been turned on, one flickered on and off. She followed the downtown street path; however she could not remember how to get back to her apartment. Every step she took she left a footprint of water upon the pavement. As she looked for a familiar sign, she saw a pair of young lovers standing on the curb. She ran to them to ask directions as to where she lived. As she approached them, they became afraid and disgusted by her gruesome appearance.
“Please help me!” she pleaded to them, sobbing silently as the couple backed away shakily. She grabbed the man by his neck and begged; unaware that she was choking him with all her dead strength. He dropped to the ground, limp and lifeless. The woman uttered a high screech and fainted beside her partner.
Another piece of her memory jolted back into her mind. Her head jerked back, her eyes peering into the dark of night through her head.
This time she could hear the voices. She was at the table in the dimly-lit room. The walls were the colour of rusted velvet.

“I love you, darling,” she heard herself say as she raised her wine glass.

“’Till death do us part,” she heard the other voice say. It was the voice of a man. She still could not make out the face of him, possibly her attacker. Then came the choking, stabbing and laughter of the man. But who was he?

She slowly backed away from the unconscious couple and ran away into the streets, crying cold tears. She was alone and unsure whether she was dead or alive. She did not know the date of the month. She looked up at the sky with wet eyes. It was the full moon. She then spotted a tall, shaded figure standing on the next corner. She ran to him, pleading for help. The figure turned around to see her. It was a tall man, well-dressed, hair slicked back, and a jewel box in his hands.
“Ugh!” he exclaimed in disgust, “get away, foul thing!” She froze as another jolt of her memory struck into her mind
It was the same scene again. She could no longer hear the voices, but she saw the face of her attacker. It was this man, Jack Michaels, her fiancé. She saw as he slipped poison into her wine as her image had turned to look at the moon through the window. She could see an evil smirk spread across his face as she began to choke on the poison. Then he jumped on her and stabbed her with a knife in her arms, chest and neck. When her image had died, her fiancé removed her jewels and put her corpse into a big, black bag. As her memory faded away, she heard a loud splash. She had been disposed of in the lake.
As she looked upon the face of this disgusted man, something in her snapped. She was filled with hot rage and hate. She uttered a low growl form her throat and yelled, “You!”
“Emilie?” he whispered in shock. “But…..it’s, it is impossible!”
She leaped on him and brought him to the ground. He screamed and dug frantically into his pocket for his knife. He pulled out the blade and began to stab at her. But it did no good, she was already dead. She began to claw at his face, deep into his cheeks with her grimy fingernails. He slapped her, hard. She did not feel it but it made her even angrier. She punched a clawed fist through his chest. His face turned white and his breath shortened. A nearby carillon struck midnight.
“I gave you my heart,” she muttered as she ripped out his heart right before his blackened eyes, “now you give me yours.” He lay motionless in the middle of the street in a pool of dark blood. She rose from the ground, still gripping his heart and staggered off into the darkness, wandering aimlessly through the streets looking for home.

The author's comments:
I thought that just saying, "BOO!" wasn't enough to scare people nowadays. so i tried writing this. Enjoy!

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!