Gothic short story

Essay by cannon1 April 2008

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Red Revenge

I raised my eyes upward; the sky was pitch-black and pouring rain. Soaking wet, I stood in the shadows. I watched the house closely for what seemed like hours, but I didn't mind. My time would come. I waited patiently. Finally, the warm glow of indoor lighting caught my eye and I watched the two of them exit through the front door. The door slammed shut and I heard their voices pierce the cold night air.

There they were, Anne and Doug. Anne was wearing her blood-red lipstick, like she always did when we used to go out for nights on the town. Her hair was curled, lacquered with hairspray. I couldn't tell from the distance, but I knew she'd painted her long nails a deep maroon - she loved the way they looked with that slinky black dress, how they appeared black until you leaned in close to catch the hints of crimson in the light.

She looked beautiful; she always looked beautiful. Doug followed close behind. Doug, the wannabe hustler. Doug, the bastard who stole Anne from me. We broke up over a year ago and she's been around town with Doug for eight weeks now, but I'm sure she's been seeing him for longer. I can just tell. He stroked his greasy soul patch as he talked. Anne laughed with her head thrown back, and my fists clenched in anger. They huddled under an umbrella as they left to take their weekly walk. How I loathed them both. I wanted to watch them suffer. I longed to break every bone in their bodies. I wanted to wreck them.

But I couldn't do that just yet - I already had a plan.

I waited a few minutes, motionless under the streetlight, before heading...