Crow's Feet

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
An extremely short story that still enables the feelings of confusing love and hatred. Drake is a deeply confused man who takes out his imperfections on others, not being able to see that Crow's feet are beautiful.

Submitted: May 27, 2015

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Submitted: May 27, 2015

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~~Crow’s Feet

As the light shone down upon the opaque vision of a face, it was all too apparent his thirst could not be quenched. He would not be able to really understand how it feels to hold someone in his arms and feel completely at ease; a strong, protecting, loving force but still a giant teddy bear giving those kisses. He will not know how it feels to stare into a woman’s eyes, gander into each and every emotion, whether it be lust, fear, depression, or anxiety, and love each and every one. Each toe of the crow’s feet at the corner of her dubiously beautiful eyes, would remain an enigma too him because he would never truly see the magnificence in imperfections.
 He stood over her, she was looking infinitesimal below his size, mentally and physically. His foot was placed in between her two breasts, crushing down on her ribs. Cracking them. Snapping them. Filling her lungs with blood. A smile appeared on his face as he bent down and brought it closer to hers. The smile, to her surprise, was genuine. As he bent over, he removed his foot from her chest and replaced his knee into the newly formed cavity.
 As he spoke his lips brushed her ear, she vaguely understood the words that came out of his mouth. The words tickled the hairs on her neck and forced her fingers to curl. The hair on her arms fell to the peer pressure as well. He pulled his face away, and looked deep into her eyes, again. Expecting to see love, lust, or fear, but he was instead met by milky lexes and nugatory expressions. Her eyes didn’t move. And he still did not notice her crow’s feet. His eyes began to flood, swelling up with, well what does it matter anyways, they were swelling up with a sign of weakness; with a sign of defeat. For the first in Drake’s post-pubescent life, he was crying. A tear dropped from the puddle forming on top of his eye lid, and landed into the eye of his lover, as if she was supposed to be crying. What does she have to be upset about? Her happiness had been spoon fed to her, stuffed into her mouth was a plethora of bullshit excuses, checks of a vast financial worth, simple “I love you”s, and the incorrect impression that her life was worth something. At the age of 18, Sarah’s father died of terminal lung cancer, she inherited 3.6 billion dollars. She, meanwhile, thinks she knows what it is like to crawl through a sea of shit and understand the hardships that life as to offer. She could never understand. 
 That’s how she upset Drake. She was always upsetting him, she was always trying to convince him that she missed her father, that this acumen of her life would change his opinion towards her. She knew, even being his girlfriend, that he was not real fond of her as a human being. She thought that bragging about her malnourishment due to social expectations as a child would give her some sort of trump card over his life. That all she would have to say is “I had shitty childhood, now come over here and ravage me my lover” in the cheesiest way possible, and Drake would worship her feet and wax her crown. But Drake was not interested.
 So uninterested that he had killed the bitch. She deserved it, she egged him on. She wanted him to kiss her on the neck, to place a hand firmly on her rump and nibble on her ear. Well that was where Drake drew the line. He wouldn’t ever be able to take what he did back. But it was all her fault.
 As he piled the last of the dirt on top of her face, all the cracks were filled. Goodbye crow’s feet.


© Copyright 2019 Hakla. All rights reserved.

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