--A small oneshot story by me, made in an hour, through boredom and spellcheck. Kinda inspired by stories of HP Lovecraft. I really appreciate comments here.

The Faceless Deep

The human face is so intricate, so full of emotion that any man could be driven insane over the years, gazing upon the features of someone who had sworn love and fidelity until the end of time. Over the years, that face gives way to age, and words confessed so long ago begin to rot like dead wood. The eyes, once so filled with information had become dull, so hollow words that are spoken feel empty.

Perhaps, it is me reflected through my wife's eyes, so full of boredom and hate as the years pass. I cannot remember when I began to hate her for what she had become, but… I knew full well the time when I began to hate the core of my soul.

I feared death, and as the years pass, I had become increasingly frustrated with the limitation of my body. Once I was a religious man, or at least, I believed in the concept of hell. It is funny, how so many people lack faith in god while fully believing in hell. I kept myself awake, many nights at a time, and wonder about what lies beyond for me: eternal darkness or damnation.

Thoughts of my wife and me would also come to mind: someday, even the most beautiful of flowers will die.

At times like those I gaze out the window of our small room, and the endless background of the ocean would be visible. I felt envious, yet strangely calm on how such a place like a sea is so full of life, yet so old that it was created long before human thought.

So old, yet so young compared to human life. A thousand years may pass after my death, yet the blue deep would remain, full of life fro the surface to the endless abyss.

I would go to bed, content, that I could see such a beautiful sight. My hate, my frustrations would disappear, if only for a fleeting moment.

Decades go by, and me and my wife manage to live together until the very end. We had a beautiful anniversary, a party in a ship located somewhere far in the sea. Many friends were invited, and we danced the night away.

For a long time, I knew that my wife had come to notice my hidden resentment and fears, but tonight was different. As we danced slowly, so close to each other, I felt the love, the same joy I had once felt during our first night together. I held her close, not wanting to let her go for all eternity. Then the song ended.

As the festivities continued, I found myself standing at the edge of the ship. The moon shone beautifully, reflecting upon the water's surface. I found myself amused, gazing at the moon's reflection without paying attention to anything else. Slowly, I began to notice another reflection: my face.

Old, yet smiling, I wondered when was the last time I felt so happy? When I looked out the window of our small bedroom, my mind answered. But it was only fleeting, a temporary savior during those sleepless nights. I stared at the joy in my face, through the water's surface. I knew what I had to do.

It was all a blur to me, walking toward the table where the food was served. No one noticed me taking a small knife from the table, and no one was suspicious of me walking toward my wife, who was talking with her friends, each of them so old.

I came close to her and whispered, "I love you."

We shared a deep, passionate kiss; our very last. It took everyone but me several seconds to notice the knife I held being plunged into her stomach, a fountain of her blood soaking my hands. The screams of shock and fear were distant to me, as I began to run. Till death do us part, time seemed frozen to my friends, but I felt alive more than anything else.

And so I ran, until I reached the edge of the ship where I jumped, knife still in my hand. The sea was beautiful, the reflection of my joy yet faceless and alive.

I love you, till death do us part.