I sadly watched the sun set behind the dark
clouds that day,
a ray of light could be seen radiating from a single point in
the sky, slowly fading behind the cloud cover. I can’t remember the last time I
ever did that, I must’ve been too young before to appreciate a sight like this one
and if I was any older I doubt I would’ve even noticed. In my 37 years I’ve
seen a lot of beautiful things come and go, Rita Onavuel was one of them. A 32
year old woman with the most seductive look, yet I swear there was
something almost angelic about her. Hell, Rita had a set of brown eyes that even
the best of men would get lost in. Though, I cursed the day I ever got mixed up
with this awful love affair; if I hadn’t, maybe she’d still be alive. Rita and I
once bled with love and now that blood is on my hands. A deep red that left
stains, stains I can’t wash away.
The rain fell hard that night, a little harder
than usual. Lightning clashed and thunder roared, illuminating the dark sky
above and the rain-slicked streets below. I parked my car under a light post
several blocks away from the banquet hall, my eyes shifting frantically back
and forth from the clock to the rear view mirror. I was nervous, the inside of
my palms were covered in sweat trying to hold the wooden grip of that revolver. I’ve never
killed a man before. In a few
minutes when Frankie Martel walks out of that banquet hall and pushes through those double doors, I'll be on the other side waiting and then it'll be his turn to stare down the barrel of a gun. It doesn’t matter if I am made or not, I’ve already lost everything I ever cared about, but I'll be damned if I see him get away with this. I would rather watch it all burn than to see Martel get away
with the murder of my Rita. If I have to make a martyr out of myself to be
the call of justice, than so be it. I will, with a lighter in hand.
I started the car and made my way to the banquet
hall. It was now sink or swim; several people could be seen walking out of the
building already. Do I dance with the devil and dig my own grave or do I cut
out this self-inflicted pain and somehow just let it all go? I waited there for what
must’ve seemed like an eternity, contemplating my next move. And then I had my answer, before I knew it I was outside in the rain, darting
towards the banquet hall steps. As I got closer I could feel my heart almost beating out of my chest, yet my gun hand steady as a rail.
What a cliffhanger. I enjoyed reading this story, you used a lot of detail. I felt like I could have been in the car with your character, or inside his head, experiencing everything he was. The storm gave the scene when he was in his car a moody feel. I do wonder though, what happened to Rita? Who is Frankie? You leave a lot to the imagination, I want to know what really happened. I also like the title, it is fitting. You did a very good job on this.
ReplyDeleteAnd was Rita a Femme Fatale? She doesn't come up too much, and when she does it only says she is seductive. It also says that they had an "Awful" love affair, but what does that mean? Did she do something that resulted in her dying?
DeleteGlad you enjoyed, I loved writing it. Thanks for the feedback! I added more, so I hope that brings a little more clarity with the characters and the story.
ReplyDelete