I never knew his neck would be so soft to touch; so slender; so fragile. I could even feel the veins under my fingers, the blood pulsating through them, the fickle life within them.   And his eyes! Up so close, I noticed that they weren’t a common blue, but rather some rare ice blue bordering on gray. I watched as they slowly changed to a dull gray. Like the cold ash from a funeral pyre.   His hands made pitiful attempts to push me away – just like I had done the last time – that time when he had been the hunter, and I the prey.   The roles were reversed. I wanted to laugh like he had that last time. But I just stared into those eyes. I didn’t want to miss any of his pain. The shock reflecting in those pools, as well as the fear of death, sent waves of relief and thrills through my soiled body. His writhing body, his vain attempts to breathe, and his strangled shouts for help appeased my aching heart. No words, no hugs, no comfort, had ever felt so soothing.   His cold skin felt so warm. His heart and lifeless eyes so endearing.         I like to know what people think of my work, so click on the feedback button above and leave me a comment.   Back to My Story Page The Authors Haunt Author Directory The Authors Haunt Library The Authors Haunt Home

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