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Honey, I'm homicidal


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“Darling, supper’s on the table and the children are waiting. Do you think you could poss-“

“I’M NOT HUNGRY!” bellowed the voice from the den, and Josephine balled her hands into fists to save breaking something. From somewhere within the adjacent room, she heard the sound of movement, of slippers treading the soft carpet followed by the opening and closing of a door. The door to the basement. To the room designated ‘His’, away from the family, hidden from the 1950s suburban life beyond their perfect green front yard and pristine white picket fence.

“Mommy?” called a voice from behind her, and she turned, plastering a smile across her face as her eyes met the two small children sat patiently at the table. “Is Daddy still sick?”

“Is Daddy going to die?” asked the other, blinking Bambie eyes back to their mother as she stood in the doorway.

“Oh sweetie, no.” Josephine began, approaching the two, kneeling to meet their mutual eyeline as she took the hands of her youngest within her fingers. “Of course he’s not. Don’t think such horrible things. Daddy’s fine. He’s just…under the weather from such a hard week at the office. But he’ll be find once he rests this weekend.” The woman stood, straightening out her dress, that smile still firmly in place. “Now eat up. The food is getting cold.”


Later that evening, as two small children slept peacefully in two small beds, and as the plates and silverware were cleaned and returned to their designated spots, Josephine made her way to the basement door.

For a moment, she considered knocking. And as her hand raised itself to do so, she found herself laughing lightly at the thought. A knock back, some hangover trait that still lingered, even now. And as she opened the door and began to make her way down the creaking wooded staircase her laughter found itself transforming to a frown upon spying her husband sat in the darkness.

“You mustn’t keep worrying them like that.” she began, reaching for a chain that hung from the ceiling, clicking the light on into the room. “You know it only confuses them. Their tiny minds can’t cope - you know how fragile children can be.”

From the corner, her husband cowered to the bulb’s light, wrapping his hands tighter about his head as he pressed himself tighter agains the exposed brick wall.

“Leave me alone, you…you…you…”

“Me? Me? Me?” Josephine queried with a smirk, her hands slipping about her waist to untie her apron. Speckles of food had dried across its surface, protecting her dress from the carnage of cooking for, and feeding, two small children. As it loosened, she allowed it to fall to the linoleum beneath her feet. “I believe last night I was a b*tch. And the night before, something along the lines of…”

“YOU’RE THE DEVIL!”, the man spat, turning almost crab-like in place until he faced her, his hands trembling as they clutched a hammer to his chest. “I don’t know who…or WHAT…you are, but you’re not my wife. You’re not Josephine!”

Josephine ‘pfft’ at him, stopping to lean against the pool table that acted as barrier between the two. Her fingers curled about the 8-ball that lay upon the felt, feeling it cool to the touch, and she considered the enjoyment of lobbing it at his head before instead rolling it into a nearby pocket.

“Darling, you know that’s not true. I’m as much Josephine as the day we married. I’m just…hmmm…enhanced? No, that’s not right. I’m just more.” she concluded, straightening up to continue her advance upon the now hammer wielding man. “And you’re getting in the way of my dinner.”


Harry had lasted a further week of Josephine’s nightly feeds. And when he finally passed away from terror and blood loss, she’d buried him in the garden, a little left of the new magnolia plant. The children had each lasted a further two days apiece and were laid to rest alongside him. Their small, fragile bodies hadn’t offered the same satisfying fill that her fully grown husband had, and by the time she’d finished washing soil from her body and dousing the homestead in gasoline, she could already feel her body protesting, eager for its next fill.

Midnight, and by the light of her burning suburban home, Josephine started the engine of her husbands motor vehicle and left the scene for good to the sound of engine sirens and neighbourhood concern. And now, some sixty years later, she’d laid claim to a small townhouse in Manhattan. Gone were the aprons and wifely duties in favour of high-end slim-fitting evening dresses and fine dining. And any memory of her family had been lost to glorious decades of living her true, undead self in cities across the world. What had been their names again? she wondered one evening as she sipped a ****tail in a hotel bar? But no sooner had the thought come to mind, had it left her when her eyes noticed the new arrival to the room.
July 25, 2018 06:06 am

Esper Valari

Small pressed rain hit the ground from outside hotel. Esper would hold a newspaper he had been reading on the subway over his head as he made his way to safety from the rain. He made his way inside the hotel it was late and he hadn't anywhere to go. His calling to this place was only for a small while. At least till the rain stopped pouring down.   

He would make his way past the ballroom where it seemed some rich fancy like of people had taken it all for themselves. With little to no money on hand, he would sneak past the bar and manage to move past the bouncer into the free booze area hardly dressed for the occasion. He ordered a whiskey sour and gave what little money he did have as a tip.  

Looking over his shoulder to the right was a woman who seemed to have a story to tell. "Quite the party no?" Looking at the woman who was clearly more dressed for the party then he was. To her, he had to seem like a normal mortal. Well, he was, almost.    He took to his liquor as he down it rather soundly. Looking up at the bartender to thank him for the drink he would stand up to extend his hand to the woman. "Names Jesper...Jesper Valari." He gave a faint smile. He was quite the adventuring. The innocent soul as one would seem easily thwarted into bad decisions. 

August 10, 2018 06:57 pm
Actives (16) Fresh Blood (2) View All The Fallen (6) Graveyard
Olivia Pierce, -Azazel_, Naoto Nathha, Cici Wraith, Lylith_, Cheyenne Davis, Pandora, Khellen, Malcolm Cade, Sofia Johanneson, Cersei Lannister, Zaxton Vermillion, Elsyna Sinclaire, Mallory Quarters, Summer Summers, The Great Pumpkin  -Yuri-
Yuri De Pont
Celsius Summers
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