Sakrileg

A wicked grin played at the corners of my lips as I saw wispy clouds pass over the crescent moon. The silver mark made me think that it was caused by God digging his nail into the sky as he grasped for something to hold onto while he took it in the ass from Satan. This though always makes me wonder if those psychiatrists were right. I ceased my steps, noting the feel of dead grass crushed beneath my black combat boots. Pointed fingernails ran through the parted bangs of my soft brown hair, the moon’s natural highlights shimmering in the waves of brunette with the movement. A low chuckle found life in my throat.

I had been waiting for that kind of symbolism. Even when the fear that someone alive is watching me is quenched, I still feel I’m being watched. By the dead, and by a God I’m not even sure exists. The dead can do nothing, and like I said, I don’t even know if there is a God. And the clouds had covered any trace of God’s possible observation. The malicious grin stretched further, completely taking over my pail face. Jade green, sleep deprived eyes, once so full of life, no only gleamed with some subconscious evil. I know not who I am, nor do I understand what I do.

The clouds were thin, so the icy glow still illuminated the graveyard enough for me to see where I was going. As I continued to move forward I felt a chill pass through my bones and for some unknown reason it excited me. My blood boiled and the two clashing temperatures filled me with a strange thrill.

I looked out at the abandoned church sitting so silently beyond the graveyard. Its darkness sent fear coursing through my body and I shivered with the sudden addition to my excitement. I was somewhat dizzy with the building ember of euphoria. As I began to lose balance and my walk became more of a stumble, I heard a sound. On instinct, I froze in my tracks, and in a split second had dove behind the nearest grave. I clutched at the stone with building anticipation, my knuckles bone white. I peered over the edge, eyes wide with hope.

Crouched before a tombstone was a girl, probably in her late teens, speaking to the dweller of the grave. Umber hair was tied carelessly back in a messy bun, and there was the sparkle of tears in her amazing sapphire eyes. I noted appreciatively the impressive amount of cleavage. All she wore was a white tank top under an unzipped gray hoodie and a pair of jeans. The light cast from her candle made her look even hotter.

Her voice was shaking, her speech often interrupted by powerful sobs. I closed my eyes while I let the sweet sound grace my ears and tease my senses. As I moved my hand to touch my neck softly, I noticed a stinging that hadn’t been there before. In my dazed state, I hadn’t noticed that I had cut my palm as I plummeted behind the grave. As I stared at the oozing blood, I could hear my heart beating in my ears. Suppressing a whimper of gratitude, I drew my hand closer and licked at the blood. The ember erupted for the brief moment the red stained my lips and traveled over my tongue. But it was gone almost as soon as it had started, for I was all too accustomed to my own blood. Now that I knew there was something beautiful present, nothing of my own could satisfy me.

I could no longer just sit there and watch the beauty weep over her loved one. I rose to my feet and continued my careless, almost zombie-like walk. She heard me just before I stepped into the light and started. “Hello?” Oh, her voice was that of fear with undertones of briefly forgotten sorrow. The ember momentarily erupted once more. I took a half step into the light, just enough so that she could make out that I was a young woman like herself.

She seemed to relax. I bit back a devilish grin. “Oh, I’m sorry… You know how it is; girl out in a graveyard in the middle of the night. It gets you a bit on edge.”

I couldn’t bring myself to open my mouth. Talking didn’t fit into the game.

She sighed, looking back down at the grave, as though suddenly remembering why she was there. “My big brother…,” she murmured. “He always used to protect me, and I…I feel so lost…without him…” She looked back up at me, and in attempt to get her mind off of her grief, asked, “What are you doing here?”

The perfect moment.

“Taking care of some needs.” And with that, I leapt on top of her, pressing a hand to her mouth and smashing her head into the dirt in the process. She squirmed and struggled fiercely beneath me as I straddled her waist, and by then my demonic grin was back in place. She screamed into my palm. A plan had formulated in my mind, and once I had decided on what to do with my little plaything, I sent a fist into her skull to knock her out. It’d be easier to transport her if she wasn’t putting up a fight. We’d save the fighting for later.

I crawled off of her and turned to take a look at the tombstone. At this point, I started laughing. It started out a breathy chuckle, then exploded into a maniacal howl that pierced the night. Change of plans.

I ran back to the dead willow where I had left the shovel I had had a feeling I was going to need. It’s a good thing I always follow my gut instincts. I returned to the grave with my trusty shovel and dug up my beauty’s brother. Almost dizzy from laughing so hard, I thrust open his coffin. When the stench hit me I flinched a bit and it made me laugh all the harder. I was in luck. His death wasn’t so long ago that he’d rot off on me or break apart or anything, but he wasn’t so fresh that he didn’t look disgusting. The night was going better than expected.