Brown Eyed Girls Scream Loudest
by Lydia Knotts
by Lydia Knotts
Breathing. Heavy breathing, the kind you hear after a marathon, or a battle. Joyful and heaving, I huffed with a semblance of a hunter with his quarry. I had caught my prey, and I was proud. My hands, stained with nirvana and shaking like a leaf in the first November breeze, reached up to push my glasses onto my nose. They left red blots on my forehead, little spots of heaven clotting as I puffed. I leaned over, smiling, into the still face of my prey. Though closed, I could still see her chestnut eyes, the light leaving them as the pleasure took over me.Surrounding the eyes, her face-skinned, hacked, and violated in every meaning of the word-was still beautiful, so beautiful. I unlocked her bound wrists and ankles, there was no need to keep them on. She had stopped fighting, begging, screaming hours ago.
In the flickering light of the single bulb on the ceiling, I located the lever to tilt the platform she resides on. Behind me, I hear the body scrape as it slides into the cremation chamber. Sure that my ever-shrinking stack of tires was there, I grabbed one and tossed it onto the flames, obscuring the smell and hiding the eyes behind a wall of dark rubber. I smiled, letting the warmth and pleasure run through me. I lingered there, letting the stench and heat overtake my senses. I never got tired of it. In the distance, the clock chimes once, twice, thrice. Time to turn in for the night. The hunter was satisfied...for now.
I woke to my alarm, a comforting fairytale tune, at six o'clock sharp. I dressed in khakis and a deep colored dress shirt, hopped into the brown loafers and messenger bag at the top of the stairs, and even made it to the kitchen before my head began to spin. The pain, the craving erupted from my brain as lava flows from a volcano. Had it been days, hours, seconds since I watched her burn? The high was immense, but so was the fall. I was an addict, a hunter never satisfied with his game. Always the need had been in me, but now it controlled me. Tonight, I begged my screaming nerves, I'll do it tonight.
Newly determined, I forgot breakfast and stepped out the door. The warmth of the sun made no difference to me, I had a better source of heat. Jacob, my neighbor down the hill, was mowing his lawn. He greeted me as I walked past, needless chatter I tritely responded to. His daughter, an adorable five year old
blonde, stared at me through the kitchen window. She was safe from me, with her big blue eyes. Blue eyed gals die too easy, they don't scream.
I continued to walk to work, going through the morning motions. Hello, Liz. Hello, Brian. Hello, Jessie. Hello, Victoria. It wasn't long before I entered the bar I worked at. There, I mixed mimosas for ladies having brunch, passed beer after beer to the businessmen trying to forget their ex-wives, and nearly ran out of grenadine with brats screaming for their shirley temples. The searing pain in my mind gradually lessened to a dull throb as hours passed. Then, at 10 pm, the party started.
Scantily clad ladies with men on their hips, calling for bizarre and expensive drinks I mixed as fast as I could. I smiled at their awful jokes, faked listening to drunken prattlings, and watered down the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth drinks. The one thing I payed real attention to was eye color. Blue, blue, green, purple…..no potential for a trip to heaven yet. Only two hours later my stock was low and I made last call. The ladies, their men missing and their makeup smudged, tripped each other up on their way out. The businessmen left with a slur in their speech and a hole in their hearts. Each bid farewell to ¨Toby the bartender¨ as they held their vomit in. I was mopping up puddles of twelve-dollar cocktail when I heard giggling. I traced the sound to the back and discovered two girls. One blonde and one brunette, with barely any clothes and matching red heels. They stared at me, four chocolate, glassy spheres with dilated pupils and red veins. Wonderful.
The pain in my head spiked at the sight before me. The two girls, high as a pair of kites, slurred that they were ´just leaving´. I took it upon myself to give them a ride. Oh, it was fantastic. The blonde, of course, I enjoyed more. Girls with brown eyes all scream beautifully, but blondes carry a panicking note that sends me into paradise like nothing else.
What do you think, detective? Was I too sloppy, driving the girls in my van? Should have borrowed one, huh? No matter. Down where I'm going, see, loads of brown eyed girls down there. Screaming, all of them. I can't wait…….Unless, of course, you think I can be rehabilitated? ………………………………….....Your daughter has brown eyes, right?
In the flickering light of the single bulb on the ceiling, I located the lever to tilt the platform she resides on. Behind me, I hear the body scrape as it slides into the cremation chamber. Sure that my ever-shrinking stack of tires was there, I grabbed one and tossed it onto the flames, obscuring the smell and hiding the eyes behind a wall of dark rubber. I smiled, letting the warmth and pleasure run through me. I lingered there, letting the stench and heat overtake my senses. I never got tired of it. In the distance, the clock chimes once, twice, thrice. Time to turn in for the night. The hunter was satisfied...for now.
I woke to my alarm, a comforting fairytale tune, at six o'clock sharp. I dressed in khakis and a deep colored dress shirt, hopped into the brown loafers and messenger bag at the top of the stairs, and even made it to the kitchen before my head began to spin. The pain, the craving erupted from my brain as lava flows from a volcano. Had it been days, hours, seconds since I watched her burn? The high was immense, but so was the fall. I was an addict, a hunter never satisfied with his game. Always the need had been in me, but now it controlled me. Tonight, I begged my screaming nerves, I'll do it tonight.
Newly determined, I forgot breakfast and stepped out the door. The warmth of the sun made no difference to me, I had a better source of heat. Jacob, my neighbor down the hill, was mowing his lawn. He greeted me as I walked past, needless chatter I tritely responded to. His daughter, an adorable five year old
blonde, stared at me through the kitchen window. She was safe from me, with her big blue eyes. Blue eyed gals die too easy, they don't scream.
I continued to walk to work, going through the morning motions. Hello, Liz. Hello, Brian. Hello, Jessie. Hello, Victoria. It wasn't long before I entered the bar I worked at. There, I mixed mimosas for ladies having brunch, passed beer after beer to the businessmen trying to forget their ex-wives, and nearly ran out of grenadine with brats screaming for their shirley temples. The searing pain in my mind gradually lessened to a dull throb as hours passed. Then, at 10 pm, the party started.
Scantily clad ladies with men on their hips, calling for bizarre and expensive drinks I mixed as fast as I could. I smiled at their awful jokes, faked listening to drunken prattlings, and watered down the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth drinks. The one thing I payed real attention to was eye color. Blue, blue, green, purple…..no potential for a trip to heaven yet. Only two hours later my stock was low and I made last call. The ladies, their men missing and their makeup smudged, tripped each other up on their way out. The businessmen left with a slur in their speech and a hole in their hearts. Each bid farewell to ¨Toby the bartender¨ as they held their vomit in. I was mopping up puddles of twelve-dollar cocktail when I heard giggling. I traced the sound to the back and discovered two girls. One blonde and one brunette, with barely any clothes and matching red heels. They stared at me, four chocolate, glassy spheres with dilated pupils and red veins. Wonderful.
The pain in my head spiked at the sight before me. The two girls, high as a pair of kites, slurred that they were ´just leaving´. I took it upon myself to give them a ride. Oh, it was fantastic. The blonde, of course, I enjoyed more. Girls with brown eyes all scream beautifully, but blondes carry a panicking note that sends me into paradise like nothing else.
What do you think, detective? Was I too sloppy, driving the girls in my van? Should have borrowed one, huh? No matter. Down where I'm going, see, loads of brown eyed girls down there. Screaming, all of them. I can't wait…….Unless, of course, you think I can be rehabilitated? ………………………………….....Your daughter has brown eyes, right?