This Is The Bloody Valentine Horror Hop!

Welcome to the Bloody Valentine Horror Hop!

The place where Valentine’s Day is celebrated with heartbreak, love gone wrong, romantic mayhem and tragedy, and where you find out what happens when the rose petals die, the candy melts, and lovers are looking for payback.

The bloggers that signed on are offering many delights in romantic misfortune, and you can check out the full list at the end of this post.

First up, though, is my contribution:

• A creepy little story about lingering too long in a relationship
• Some poetry — two poems written by me and another penned by special guest poet, Sean Theall

So read on…

Leaking Out

Drip, drip, drip.

The sound dances with the sunbeams streaming through the bedroom window. It’s a rhythm, a mind numbing vibration of liquid striking metal. Such a strange sound to hear in the morning, the drip, drip, drip of the tap.

Or is it the tap?

Maybe it isn’t a leak. Maybe it’s something else. Blood flowing through the veins of the house. Drip, drip, dripping someone’s life away. All oozing out over the sink. Or the floor.

I wonder why I thought that?

I smell coffee.

I’m in the kitchen.

How did I get here? I’m not sure. My memory plays tricks these days. Or maybe time is playing tricks. Either way, I’ve gotten used to it. Mostly. But the dripping noise is gone. Maybe it never was. Maybe it was in my head. Probably was. Too many things are in my head.

But I still smell coffee. And toast. He made breakfast. He always made breakfast when we were first married. Or maybe I did. No, that’s not true. He did. He was sweet in the beginning.

I don’t think he’s here anymore. I think he left. But I don’t know why. Why would he leave? None of this feels right. All I know is the house is empty. Shut up tight. It’s so quiet.

And there’s no breakfast on the table. Just dust.

We were happy.

I thought we were happy.

I must’ve been wrong.

Something must’ve been wrong.

Our happiness had cracks.

He didn’t love me.

Or he wouldn’t have… no, I won’t… he didn’t… couldn’t have… he left me?

No.

I left?

Drip, drip, drip.

I can hear it again. The wet noise.

It isn't coming from the kitchen. It sounds like it’s coming from the bathroom.

But it may not be coming from anywhere, except my head. It’s hard sometimes to know.

I’m standing outside the bathroom door now. But I was just in the kitchen. Wasn’t I? I think I was. Maybe not.

I don’t want to be here. Why? Why do I want to run? Something happened in there? I think it did. My hand is shaking.

I’m afraid.

But I can still hear the dripping.

I open the door.

The room is empty. A cheerless room.

I look down.

The stain’s still there. It’s been scrubbed and scrubbed, but it wouldn’t come out of the tile. Where the blood dripped into the widening pool of red. Bright, bright red. The stain’s more pink now.

It’s even kind of pretty. If I forget what made it.

Blood. Too much blood.

Painted on my memory. Scarlet and screaming, and all jumbled with questions. Whys and how’s. I don’t have answers. I’m not sure I want answers. I might not like them. I’d rather forget. I like it best when I don’t remember it at all. Those are the best days.

But that’s not today. Today’s not a day when I don’t remember.

Today I know what happened.

Someone died.

No, someone was murdered.

I remember.

My husband murdered me.

~*~

Though I Be A Fool…

Though I be a fool, I shall weep

for you, and what will never stay,

my fleeting, broken love so cheap.

Though I be a fool, I shall weep.

And I mourn, my grief wide and deep,

as the sun dims, and clouds grow grey.

Though I be a fool, I shall weep

for you, and what will never stay.

~*~

Murmur’s Echo

A fume of glacial breath

beside you,

in the graveyard

Ephemeral vapors wafting,

far adrift

across the moonlight

Prickles teasing at your ear,

spinal shivers

One voice whispering

Stay with me…

Stay with me…

For Eternity

~*~

And Now For Our Guest Poet...

The Last Commitment

Here my lovely let us have one last meal.

one more chance to be together and

tell you how I feel.

Upon the table in a vase

is a half-life rose, this meeting

is to see if we still have a pulse

and where our future goes.

Steak or chicken your personal

choice. recite your order in

that sweet tiny voice.

Trying to get a emotional reading

from your laugh and smile.

taking my emotions placing

them on a railroad track

with a train coming, and

still expect love back.

All you really want is my

blood and my heart, do away

with my husk a brand new start.

Not to mention the green

my leather case. will this lunch

end in death by broken vase?

I would like to attempt to

beat you to the punch, wanted

to see what we could salvage

this was the idea behind this

lunch.

It appears we must take on

different roles. I as the mongoose

and you as the snake there is only

so much of that hidden evil smile

I can take. dancing around the

truth maybe realizing too late

we can't live under the same

roof.

One final gesture from me

silently holding my breath.

handing you a glass of red wine

nervously waiting for you to

take sip and end our jointed

time.

Feeling lightheaded or woozy

my angel? let me put you to

bed. sleep off your hangover

and fall quickly to your death.

The authorities will not suspect

a thing. all they will see is

you sleeping soundly in bed.

only I will know the truth,

you are finally gone;

stone cold dead.

Copyright 2011

Sean C. Theall

~*~

About the Hop, and the Blogger List

We also had a last minute entry not on the official list, but well worth the read:

http://timetravel21217.blogspot.ca/2015/02/a-bloody-good-time.html