The literary magazine of Hagerstown Community College
Tears fell from her eyes like blood from a wound
Leaking effortlessly without concern,
Broken words spoken from her broken heart
Beating consistently with untampered aggression,
Hands shaking like a car that won’t quite start
Trembling with insecurity and uncertainty,
A flower that has not been given the water to grow,
Now lifeless and filled with a remorseful sorrow.
She was halfway between asleep and awake. She could hear the sounds but not comprehend them. The familiar breathing, in and out. Drifting slowly into slumber.
He was watching her sleep. He liked to do that sometimes. He made sure he would pretend otherwise if she woke up in the middle of the night.
She dreamt of a game that night. She was playing chess against some unknown opponent. She was the queen, and all the pieces she commanded.
He knew she was seeing others. He found evidence one night in her nightstand. He won’t tell anyone he knows that.
She had a few pawns up front. Some knights in the back and a rook on the side. Each piece moved strategically. Cautiously.
He hated himself. He knew he wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t rich or handsome. She deserved better.
She had lost a few pawns but her king was still safe. She had no doubts. She was going to win this game.
He moved slowly from the bed so as not to wake her. He tiptoed to the kitchen and brewed her favorite tea. He breathed in deeply, the steam scalding his nostrils.
She danced around the chessboard like a sugar plum fairy. The opponent was losing. How stupid her opponent was; such careless choices he made.
He trudged down the basement stairs and opened up the safe. A few important belongings stashed behind emergency cash. He made sure to leave the safe open. She didn’t know the combination.
She thought she was winning but her opponent had tricked her. The opponent schemed behind her back as she was confidently sending pawns to take down knights. She was tricked.
He pulled out a shoe box from the safe.
She made her last move.
He raised a gun to his temple.
She was cornered.
Checkmate.
Tissue-paper skin – translucent –
with long, black robes –
and one outstretched finger.
She whispered in my ear –
fairytale words – she smelled –
of the dirt and decay of death.
At first nothing – and then –
a tingling of sorts – vibrations –
her words ringed in my head.
And down I fell – rapidly –
down the rabbit hole –
into blackness and silence.