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it's just one of those days, where everything is black and white. trees, sky, the earth itself seems to be various shades of grey. it is eerily quiet as well, the only thing it could use is some jazz music, maybe a solo saxophone, or piano. it would seem to fit the days events. everything in slow sluggish moments, yet it's all poor quality. i suppose it was a film noir thing that happened.

i made a pot of black tea, but it never whistled. well at least i never heard it. it was misting outside, and the fog was rolling in, bringing the cold with it. i stood and stared out the kitchen window wearing my grey corduroy cargos with my black hoodie. there was a sound, much like drums coming from the front door. i spun around and ran towards the thump thump thump.

a large round figure stood in the doorway, hat covering the face well. looks like the rain was really coming down now. the near featureless face simply mouthed, you gonna make me stand here in the rain? let me in you jack ass! so i obeyed. i open the door letting this wet trench coat come inside. coat down to her knees, and the only thing in color i have seen all day are her red shoes. those infernal crimson patent-leather wedge heel style peekaboo toe high heels. what have i done? she removes her hat. the look of horror on my face makes her throw her head back in laughter. my pulse is so loud it drowns the mania out.

it's her. her lack of stature, her girth, and those shoes. it couldn't be anyone else. she starts with the emphatic gestures. so i've heard you've made some friends, bailey. and that you tell them just how bad i am, and how you are just warning them. they cant be better than me, can they?

i reply, better than you? better than my mom? of course. they listen, and they love. two things you never could do.

her gestures get more violent in nature. she reaches for her purse. no one is better than me she says. everything you told your supposed friends are lies. if i can't have you to care about no one will. she pulls out a knife. you deserve to die you slut! i run to the kitchen for the pot of tea. it must have boiled away. i throw the empty silver tea kettle at the mad woman, although in the fray it smashes against the wall. another laugh emanates from her double-chinned throat. you see, you can't even hurt me! you are just that weak. how do you think you made me feel with all those blatant lies you told about me? it didn't hurt me, it's only going to hurt you...

it's like i am moving in slow motion, and she is moving in real time. i'm running through water, i'm smaller and younger than she, why is this happening? she grabs what little hair i have, and spins me around, freeze frame. now she is going slow. she mouths, i see the knife, close up, it's point arching from the ceiling to straight at me. freeze frame, close up on the face. her hat has come off, and all you can see is those black eyes, no feeling in them, as she is caught chin up head back in another chuckle.

frame by frame this plays out so eloquently slow, her face, my face, the knife. my sweatshirt has come off, all i have now is the white shirt underneath. close up, slow speed on my shirt. the knife plunges into my chest. i sink to the ground. angle shot of the body. i'm even bleeding black blood. close up on her feet as she walks away. you are a bug bailey, just an insect. the last thing i'll ever see were those damn red shoes. please don't hurt me anymore for bleeding on them. queue saxophone.
wrote some time ago.

based loosely on real life experiences.

content warning due to swears and blood.

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Submitted on
January 13, 2008
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