Cassandra's Death

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Do not know how to describe this.

Submitted: April 18, 2012

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Submitted: April 18, 2012

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I had never imagined myself thinking, or even dare having such a plan. Cassandra and I were the happiest together. Between us, a pure case of true love. But, my mind was set; the choice was made, and I made the choice to do this myself. I promised myself that I would not fall into the disease like insanity that remained in Cassandra's mind, but I did. I just did not know it. I was ready to do the job; it was the only way she could remain mine. I had never been so enchanted by a woman. From the day I put my eyes on her, I knew there was something different about her, that I was dying to know. Walking up, and greeting her on that one fall day was one of the best decisions I had ever made. I proposed a few months after, and we were married in a small church in the center of the next town over. We then spent our honeymoon moving into our house that I had inherited from my mother that tragically passed on from influenza about five years earlier. Cassandra seemed perfectly happy the first year of our marriage. She was never upset. Always smiling, and laughing. She was such a joyful person. But, without any signs, or warning, she began getting depressed. She would sit in our Study room, Quiet and still. She would sometimes write her poetry. The beauty of her artwork had always seemed to astonish me. But, Now, It just frightens me. I would examine it every day after she left to go to the market. With each poem, her words just seemed to get darker and darker. It always had something with the topics of suffering, or death. And then there was the mirror. She had purchased it one afternoon from a traveling merchant while she was away on her daily shopping trip to the market. She presented it to me with such excitement I did not understand, shopping me her first real smile in what seemed like years. I will admit only to myself, that the mirror was indeed a gorgeous work of art. The unique pattern of the wood, just pulled me in.

Although, it soon began to scare me. Her behavior changed quite abruptly, and instead of writing, she would simply sit on the floor, staring blank into the mirror. I could never gain her attention; I couldn't even feel her presence in the room anymore. She never spoke to me, and hardly ever ate. She became pale and thin. The color seemed to disappear from her face; she wasn't white; but colorless. She appeared to be so fragile. I was scared that if I touched her she would break into tiny pieces. I eventually I forced myself to move her, taking her to the bedroom, but she just laid there, never moving, never talking. Even as I sat beside her, holding her hand, I felt alone in the room. She was simply just not there. It was at that moment, Next to Cassandra, that I decided what was best. I knew I had to kill her. I just knew. It was about midnight, my mind twirling with ideas of how I was going to have joy in doing what I had planned for so long. Or rather, what my plan even was. I hadn't yet thought of how, only of what. I caught myself grinning as I paced the old floors of our home, the soft sounds of her mumbling in her sleep were coming swiftly through my ears from the bedroom. I glanced over to the corner of the kitchen, where a glare from the lamp burning on the counter caught my attention. Next to it, a smooth, shining silver tool lay next to it. "Ah, a knife…" I whispered, walking towards it. This was such an unoriginal idea; but, this was only to finish my plan, not to be creative. Still pacing, I grabbed the knife from the counter. I walked toward the bedroom, and glanced in at her on the bed. Her face was pale, and her lips were a deep flesh like violet. I slid onto the bed beside her, examining her body from head to toe. She looked empty. She did indeed appear to me dead already, but I know she was not, because her chest moved slowly. Gripping the knife firmly, I got as close to her as possible, looking her into the eyes and not showing any expression of wanting to do such a thing to her. As I inhaled, with one quick movement, I slid the knife across her throat and dug it into her chest. I broke down crying and slid off of the bed, screaming and putting my hands to my face to eventually sob into them. “Why in the hell could I ever imagine doing such a disgrace, but to actually do it. I must be a monster!” I had thought for a moment, sitting in the pool of her blood, Still gripping the knife in hand. None of our friends and family had checked up on us for some time. I decided I could simply tell them she went away on a trip and never returned. Yes! Doing so, I could make myself out to be the victim, the one who looked and looked for his dear, lovely bride! I would gain sympathy and no one would know any better. I didn't care if it was selfish. It would work, it had to. I just had to get rid of the body.


I walked a step backward, looking at Cassandra's empty body laying on the bed, soaked in her own blood. I quickly walked over next to the bed, and just hit her. I picked up all the sheets on the bed, also, and flipped over the mattress and bed frame, watching the bed completely bash her head into the floor boards.I ran into the kitchen. I began panicking, Trying to find the gasoline in the cabinets under the sink. "Ah, here you are." I whispered, letting a small chuckle escape my throat. I ran throughout the house, pouring the gasoline over everything. On the way to the front door, I grabbed the lamp that was burning on the counter, tipping it over and watching flames erupt throughout my small, so clean house. I ran, and ran after that. Running straight through the town, running away from all my secrets I kept for so long in that house.


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Cassandra's Death

Short Story / Horror