I walked through the door, pushing the wood aside. It gently closed behind me and I moved to take off my shoes. The house smelled of freshly dried paint and cedar. I walked down the wide hall leading to the kitchen. The walls were an uneven shade of red. Alice's favourite colour. Red brought out her eyes, her hair; she was beautiful when she walked through the rooms. She had been charmed by this house. Every time we drove by, she'd mention it. One day, a "For Sale" sign appeared and she kissed me and begged me to take a look at it. As if I could've said no. The mansion was a good ninety years old, and so expensive we had agreed to wait two years to be married.

I reached the kitchen. The cream walls -- the only ones she had agreed not to dominate -- reflected the light filtering through the window, dancing around the dust. I grabbed a glass off the counter, the cleanliness of it unconsidered, and began filling it at the stainless steel fridge. Alice had adored the mix of quaint and modern, whereas I never noticed until now. When the glass was full, I raised it to my lips and let the cool, flavourless liquid pervade my mouth. It smelled like her. The cold seeped down my throat, radiating through my chest. I suddenly wondered why it was so c old in the house, despite the hot sunlight. The light in question bounced off the crystals in the table, illuminating the water. It was a creepy, brilliant effect. I could almost see Alice photographing it, just like I could see her in her sweats, her hair skewered back, painting the walls and high ceiling. Glancing over, I noticed a splatter of red touched the baseboard. Emotion bled from my being.

Coldly, I walked down the creaking stairs that went into the basement. Glancing at the room, I noticed the clutter from years gone by: skates, carpets rolled against the walls, old, temperamental radios, and the mysterious short wooden door in the wall beneath the hanging skates. My fiancée had been besotted by it; I guess I had been, too, but it was locked. And so was her grave.

I looked down at the broken steps as I descended. Something was wrong. With clinical curiosity, I looked at the bottom of my foot -- a nail was lodged in flesh and muscle. Bearing emotionless features, I grabbed the nail-head and pulled all two inches of rusty metal out, ignoring the steady stream of blood, thick and shiny. All I felt was frigid apathy. Continuing down the stairs, I left a trail of crimson. Maybe that would help them find me.

Stepping on the concrete floor, I picked a random can off the shelf. A fuzzy spider skittered out of the way. Wiping the grime off the label with a bloody hand, I read: "Paint Thinner." On hindsight, I believe Alice was looking for that. Oh well. It worked for me, anyway. I sat down by the wall, resting against a carpet roll. With the nail I extracted from my foot, I peeled the lid off. The acid was water and odious. Death isn't supposed to be pleasant, I thought. I wonder if it was for her. Spread-eagled, blood pooling around her, the ladder atop her limp legs. Her wandering gaze as it searched for me. Blood, thick and warm, oozing into her hair. Her grip on my hand, slackening as the paramedics arrived. The fallen paint can, drenching my sweatpants as her blood dyed her own. The vivacity ebbing from her eyes. Cold.

Without a second thought, I tipped the corrosive fluid into my mouth. The last thing I felt before I fell asleep was the bitter burning down my throat and a peculiar glow.


I'm floating. I don't know if my eyes are closed or not, but I don't think it matters. The darkness is so complete. It crushes my ribs. I wonder if I'm breathing.


Suddenly I'm thrown from oblivion back into consciousness. I stand up, knocking over an empty can in my groggy daze. As it rolls away from me, I read it. "Paint Thinner." My attention is drawn to the rusted nail in my hand. I drop the revolting object. It splatters blood on my toes as it hit's the ground. Under the small door in the opposite wall, light is seeping through. It shines through the cracks in the wood, and I am drawn towards it. As I take a cautious step forward, I'm aware that my foot is unmarred. I advance towards the door. Gingerly, I place a hand on the knob, turn it lightly, and it swings open silently and easily, revealing Alice. All I register at first is her, rushing towards me and embracing me. I'm enveloped in her scent, her arms, her. And she whispers three words:

"I forgive you."

:D Review?

And here's the link to the poster I based it off of:

http :/ /custombyamy .files .wordpress .com /2009/ 04/chris5. png? w=500&h=674

Mine is in the bottom left corner.