Dainty: A Short Story
The tree doesn’t sway anymore. It used to dance, hover and protect the large brick house with its delicate, elegant branches. Dainty leaves would be released from the tips after a brief gust of wind and float gracefully onto the brick roof. Thick branches would tangle together, rejoicing in unison, sharing trails of ivy between the tiny gaps. It doesn’t do that anymore.
Adara always made an effort to keep everything in pristine condition. She was careful to line the frail bushes parallel to the trodden path, creating an inviting atmosphere for when guests came and visited. In the summer she would load up the lawn mower and guide it across the prickly grass, her forehead blazing in the burning sun. Streams of azaleas, lilies, iris’, orchids …show more content…
Maybe it was deep, torturing anger that grew in my chest every time I saw him torture my poor Adara. Or maybe it was the gut wrenching capital vice of envy flooding my bloodstream and driving me into insanity.
I am certain many people will claim me as a"psychopath" for this crime. I'll wake up tomorrow morning and my name and face distorted with pixels will be sprawled across the tabloids with some remark about how "an insane man murdered his ex wife." Its pathetic. They shame me for doing whats right, for serving justice and destroying the real source of evil. His violence would have eventually obliterated her and I could not let that happen. People are such cowards- too afraid to take risks to get what they want.
Now my Adara is finally at peace. I can see her laying in front of me, like a frail flightless fledgling. Her eyes are sealed shut by the bold burns from the flames that eliminated the pigment in her skin and abolished the oxygen from her veins. Her pretty little head lays there softly upon the damp soil and her pink lips are pursed gently, like a pure rose petal. Her pale, ghostly hand winds itself around the strands of grass that remain, clutching desperately as they engulf her thin wrists. Finally she is safe. He will not hurt her anymore. She is at one with nature- safe
Adara always made an effort to keep everything in pristine condition. She was careful to line the frail bushes parallel to the trodden path, creating an inviting atmosphere for when guests came and visited. In the summer she would load up the lawn mower and guide it across the prickly grass, her forehead blazing in the burning sun. Streams of azaleas, lilies, iris’, orchids …show more content…
Maybe it was deep, torturing anger that grew in my chest every time I saw him torture my poor Adara. Or maybe it was the gut wrenching capital vice of envy flooding my bloodstream and driving me into insanity.
I am certain many people will claim me as a"psychopath" for this crime. I'll wake up tomorrow morning and my name and face distorted with pixels will be sprawled across the tabloids with some remark about how "an insane man murdered his ex wife." Its pathetic. They shame me for doing whats right, for serving justice and destroying the real source of evil. His violence would have eventually obliterated her and I could not let that happen. People are such cowards- too afraid to take risks to get what they want.
Now my Adara is finally at peace. I can see her laying in front of me, like a frail flightless fledgling. Her eyes are sealed shut by the bold burns from the flames that eliminated the pigment in her skin and abolished the oxygen from her veins. Her pretty little head lays there softly upon the damp soil and her pink lips are pursed gently, like a pure rose petal. Her pale, ghostly hand winds itself around the strands of grass that remain, clutching desperately as they engulf her thin wrists. Finally she is safe. He will not hurt her anymore. She is at one with nature- safe