Untitled

A/N: This was just kind the random spur of the moment that was inspired by something my friend said (the last quote)...So, I hope you like it.

Multihued trees shrouded in mist were swaying gracefully in the twilight's waltz, nature's own choreography as the wind whistled a strong melody. The dance was interrupted by a shrilling scream that echoed throughout the night, lingering toxically inside my ears. I looked down, astonished at my own quivering and blood-stained hands. I couldn't keep them still; my body was shaking uncontrollably as if infected with hypothermia and I found it hard to catch even a wisp of breath.

I knew what I had to do; the only way to free myself from my suffering, to terminate my misery for all eternity. Right before my eyes, and it was something I could do so easily. But I tried to…

And I failed.

I always fail, at everything in which I endeavor. Even the most simplest of things I manage to mess up. Including what I had just done. It practically proved my imperfection, conceit, envy, malice...

Miniscule droplets evaporated into the air one by one, unnoticeably shrinking the puddle of pink-tinted water. Hot tears fell down my cheeks like a downpour, joining the emulsion as I once again struggled to breathe. I was in such a hysteric state I couldn't think straight, my mind was muddled with dark and light thoughts, black and white thoughts, wrong and right thoughts. I could only see grey and so my judgment was blurred. However I still could not condone myself for my heinous actions.

The icy, metal handle wrapped itself around my hand as my arm raised itself into the air slowly. Streams of blood seeped around my feet, trickling from the ruptured head of the crimson coated victim. Their hand was reached out, fingers curled together as if he were reaching for something before he died.

Perhaps life. Perhaps death…Each is precious and can only be experienced once.

It's not like it matters now. Now that he's dead and that I'm the one who killed him. What a disgrace…to be murdered by your own wife. I almost felt pity for him. But I didn't, and that was because I couldn't feel anymore. Emotion was no longer an option, nor was compassion. My victims never had the extravagance of mercy, no matter how much they plead or begged because in the end they're all only imploring for something that they're going to lose anyways. So what's the point of having it in the first place?

I have yet to figure that out.

The knife was lowered and incised its sharp self through my stomach, causing blood to trickle out of the corners of my mouth. I fell to my quaking knees, crumbled and fading leaves brushing by me before I fully collapsed to the ground. All control was lost, regret seeping into my heart like proliferating vines entertwined on a brick wall. My world was blanketed in sinister darkness, only one ray of light shining so brightly. Finally, at long last I did something right for once.

And I also learned something...

That the greatest gift in life, is death.