Tell A Tale — Gothic Fiction

The Lesser Of Two Evils By Georgie Smith

I can’t control it.

My alsatian stared morosely at the abomination upon the dissection table, back arched, the rigging of his spine facing the moon. Only a mad person would attempt this; one that’s sick in the head; a mind divided.

You’ll regret this.

The winter winds of darkness flowed through the open windows, and filled the room with the musk of night. It played with the dead girl’s ink black locks and propelled a few wisps into the cold air, others cascaded down her back like the articulate strokes of Japanese calligraphy. The echo of the tap, tap, tap of my heels filled my mind as I slowly paced around her; my admiration taking over all other possible senses. I lean over her, hungrily taking in the sight of her face as I play with her ringlets, I rub the lone strands betwixt my index finger and thumb feeling my smile involuntarily growing. I’ll no longer be host to the voices; my mind of evil incarnate.

You won’t survive without me!

I stroked the corpse’s dress, adorned with the beauteous flurries of velveteen lace and an abundance of ruffles that pool at the bodice. Such a pretty vessel, a beautiful home for an ugly part of me.

My evilest desires and a jolt of electrifying blue is all it would take; I would have two existences. No longer would I be chained to a life restraining my devilish urges -my evil, my hate, thrust into another that isn’t me.


Its time; midnight’s hour was at its peak, the full fat blood moon eagerly awaited the show.

You’ll die!

I cut into her flesh, near the slender roundness of her breast, atop the weaving bones of her ribcage. Her organs are cherry red and blood leaks from them like cranberry coulis from a summer pudding. I dig my fingers into the softness of her insides, ripping apart the tissues weaving them into the velveteen flesh that lies underneath. My primal desires humming with prickles of dry delight. I finally find her heart, small and delicate, almost blue as I pull it out, like a dead humming bird pulled from its cage, wings broken, hanging limply in my hand.

I liquefy my brainwaves, my blood, my devilish desire for bloodlust, all into her heart and with a jolt of perfect blue and bloody terror, I place it back inside as the hot flesh pulses right back to life.

I pour the purple liquid past those sweet, cruel lips and before my eyes, the devil’s body heals, her tissues stitch together like embroidery of renaissance. Her new heart grows, the hummingbird hatching from the egg, flying around within its cage once again. I see her skin generate a new, over her cut-open torso, her bone fragmenting together once again beneath.

It's only when she opens her eyes, my vision taken my orbs of crimson that I realise, I am finally free.


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