'The Taste of Revenge'

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic


'The Taste of Revenge'

An Original Story

Created and Written by

Payton Gilbert

 

 

Christine

“I’m sure they’ll go away, dear. Things like this take time.”

The blue-eyed, short blonde-haired woman holds her man in her arms as the two sit on the edge of the queen-sized bed. Beside them is the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the midnight hues of black skies and neon-lit buildings.

Angel

“I know… I just wish that I could have a happy dream or not a fucking dream at all. I guess the worst part is waking up to find the seeds of nightmares lingering, the things you’ve fucked up or lost still bleeding in front of your eyes.”

Christine

“Well, look at the positives; You’re still here, I’m still here, and I’m still willing to work through these with you. All is not lost.”

Looking over to Christine, Angel smiles, warmed by her comfort and hopeful soul. Reaching for her shoulder, Christine leans on his chest and feels the electric embrace of his arms. After holding his woman for a while, the late hours of the night seem to catch up and the two lay back into bed. Pulling the blanket up, the long-haired man turns onto his side, facing Christie as her eyelids flutter and soon descend into a sealed-shut slumber. Smiling at the sight of his heart, the descent into his own sleep comes easy, and sooner than he knows, his mind drifts off into the negative void of the night. However, the hazy view only stays dark and quiet for a few moments before a rather strange feeling tingles his fingertips. As the sight of a white room becomes visible, so does a man standing in the distance. He’s got control, awareness, and a sense of comprehension, so this scene has the implications of something different. Connecting the dots, it’s soon realized that this is no nightmare or dream, but a lucid dream.

Walking towards the man, his long black hair and heavenly-like attire comes into greater detail. As he comes closer, the man looks up and cocks his head to the side, with the back of his head facing Angel.

Angel

“Hello?”

Hearing the man chuckle, he turns his entire body around, revealing a black negative space around his crystal blue eyes. Cracking a smile, blood begins to ooze from the man’s nostril, flowing onto his lips and into his mouth.

Inverted

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Angel.”

Angel

“What are you, and what the fuck is this?”

Inverted

“Oh, my little sunshine, you know what it is. Not even dreams can escape the nightmare of reality, but this is different. This is reality, my friend.”

Raising his arm, Angel’s inverted self points to a spontaneously created glow of a purple and red timeline, with ticked indicators. Beside each tick are small, titled events, beginning with Angel’s conception, to his birth, to his first time riding a bicycle, to his fist time having intercourse, and so on. The main events of his life are recorded on the timeline, including the basic events, points of great achievement, but there are also numerous ticks which mark moments of grave mistakes and fuck ups. Trailed along these specific points in his life are the plagues in his memory which have refused to dissolve with time, such as the time he fucked up dates with past girlfriends, times in which his actions resulted in lost friendships, times when his actions seemed to harm others more than they had harmed him. The chronology of his life reaches far, but as he trails long his life’s events, he notices the timeline stops on today’s date. However, at the marked, but undescribed conclusion, there does not list a death day, a special event, or even little hints, but rather a completely blank tick.

Angel

“It’s empty… no death date or marked events. There, at the end.”

Pointing to the empty tick at the end of the timeline, Inverted cocks his head to the side and licks his bloody, smooth lips. Looking at Angel, Inverted simply chuckles and lets out a simple smile.

Inverted

“That’s because it’s not completed. There’s no death date or events after today’s date because it hasn’t happened yet. Think of that end tick as room for… redemption.”

Angel

“Redemption? Redemption for what?”

Inverted

(Taking a deep breath)

“Angel, is it? I have a question for you.”

Angel

“Go ahead.”

Inverted

“How many hearts have you broken? You could say that your laundry list of previous relationships would give me my answer, but that doesn’t tell me how you feel about it. That doesn’t tell me how many kind, young women you crushed beneath your feet, how many faces you made leak waterfall tears. So tell me, how many of their hearts has your vile craving consumed?”

Angel takes a deep breath and looks over to the timeline, seeing each and every one of his ex-girlfriends and friends with benefits that he had been the main cause of ending. While his feelings towards Christine are undoubtably great, there have been so many in which were genuinely good, loving women. There were those he cheated on, manipulated, ignored, used, and would have turned out great had he not been a part of their lives.  

Reaching out, Inverted begins to bleed even more as the environment surrounding them begins to shift and rearrange, melting and constructing. The creation of a scene presents itself; a gloomy day filled with rain, crowds of people dressed in black suits and dresses and leaking eyes. With so many of them all looking at one thing, Angel walks forward and moves past the people. Hung up along strings are black roses hanging upside down. Angel stops once he reaches their sight; Christine’s body held by a dark oak open casket. She has never looked so sickly and uninspiring before. Taken back with shock, he looks down at her feet to see one foot slid into a dark, sleek heel, and her other calf being completely gone. In disbelief, Angel shakes his head and turns around to see his inverted self with his hair draped over his face and Christine’s leg held up to his mouth. Taking a bite out, it results in leaving some of the blood to wash onto his teeth and drip down his lips. Taking another bite out of the leg,

Inverted

“It still tastes great. Maybe your mistakes do have decent outcomes after all.”

Angel

“Are you saying I fucking did this?”

Inverted

(chuckling)

“Look here, dandelion, we can fix this little fuck up you’ve done, but I don’t think you’ll like it very much. But think about it, who is someone’s greatest enemy other than themselves?”

Inverted takes another bite out of Christine’s leg, tearing out a huge chunk of skin and dangling bits of muscle and stringy veins. The blood drips out of the leg and all over Inverted’s face, dripping down his chin and neck, and spilling all over his white attire. After chewing the big chunks of human meat, he swallows the rest and licks his blood-kissed lips.

Angel

“… So, if we go back before she died and… kill or change myself somehow, that we can save her? Doesn’t quite sound like justice for me, or for her.”

Inverted

“Happiness tastes like sweets, despair tastes like tears, and justice tastes like blood… but it’s up to you. With my help, we can go back and enact justice so that Christine can be saved.”

Angel

“And what if I say no?”

Inverted

“Go right ahead, you goddamn fucking mistake. You saw what your actions lead to, so now it’s time to counteract them. How many moments on that little timeline can you point at and tell me justice was done, that you truly felt like you got the best outcome possible? How many times have you been able to say that vengeance and moments of enacted revenge were worth it? Second chances don’t happen to everyone.”

Looking down, Angel lets out a heavy sigh and turns his hand over to inspect his palm. While contemplating the words of his stranger self, a drop of blood falls onto his ring finger. Reaching up to his face, he feels a light trail of liquid pouring from his left nostril. Pulling his arm away, he looks at the dark cherry red blood on the tips of his fingers. Looking up, his inverted self smirks and holds his hand out.

Inverted

“What do you say?”

Angel looks down at the man’s outreached hand and simply stares at it for a minute, seeing the eager energy and mysterious promise through such a formal and unexpected offer. Would this even be worth it? Would this inverted form of himself hold up his promise, or cause a trail of tears and dismay for the rest of this life he as to live. Angel holds his stance for a while before finally reaching out and shaking this man’s cold, thin hand. Looking up, he can see the spotlight on Inverted’s face, lit up with a combination of both surprise and assurance. His growing smile revels chunks of human blood and his eyes grow darker than a nightmare.

 

The End

Of

 

‘The Taste of Revenge’

 

Created and Written by

Payton Gilbert


Submitted: May 15, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Payton Gilbert. All rights reserved.

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