The door slams open with a thump, forming a dent in the cream colored wall. Laughter from wine and spirits echo from the doorway to the jacuzzi tub. Torn white frills, loose ties and frizzy hair fill the doorway, and the kempt room is slovenly invaded.
She’s beautiful, when not inebriated. I understood his lust, her skin porcelain smooth, lips cherry red. She was confident, snarky, and full of hate. Male attention was a staple to her diet (which I assume was the only thing she consumed). Dainty, the wedding dress now ate her.
I had met Stephanie in Dr. Peter’s office. A plastic surgeon with a glorious new building – stained glass windows patterned with historically beautiful women, a waiting room with leather recliners, and pretty secretaries appearing behind sliding etched glass.
Dr. Peters was a friend of my father and hired me as a secretary. On my first day I skipped into the office and said hello to a woman with a porcelain doll face, she didn’t reply immediately, then smirked “nice headband.”
I picked up the phone when it rang only to have her rip it out of my hand and slam it down on the receiver.
“I answer the phone. I talk to clients. I AM the looks.” She said. “Am I making myself clear?”
“Sure” I said.
At first patients loved Stephanie, but eventually they came to adore me. I remembered their names, birthdates, allergies, and medications. I read up on procedures and medication reactions (Stephanie rolling her eyes every time I picked up a book). And I perfected an excel program for scheduling.
Dr. Peters noticed my studiousness and let me assist him during a Rhinoplasty. Eventually he sent me to nursing school, and I began working with him in the operating room at the larger hospital across the city.
I met the dreamy Theodore there. A sales rep with a charming smile. I made him laugh. He bought chocolate, and a diamond ring.
One evening Theo and I stopped by Dr. Peter’s office. He commented on how beautiful Stephanie was. “Yeah” I said out loud. “On the outside” I thought to myself.
He invited her over for “family dinner.” She touched his arms, and displayed her cleavage.
She manipulated him, I know she did. He was kind. But she was cunning and spiteful. Months passed and my fiancé grew weary of me. In the office Stephanie made sly comments to me about the size of his dick. I found a red thong on our bedroom floor.
He felt trapped. He told me he was in love. I cried and cried, and fell into a deep depression. I told him I wanted everything to just go away. To end it all.
Theo didn’t want to look like a bad guy by rejecting me. One day he made my morning tea, which was out of character. I grew weary and went down for a nap. I never woke up.
I appeared in a honeymoon suite. “Just Married” was spelled in rose petals and a bottle of champagne had “Theodore & Stephanie January 1st 2016” printed on it. 2016???! This morning when I had my tea it was March 1st, 2015. I turned and looked in the mirror. My lack of reflection revealed the truth.
Fuck! That mother fucker killed me! He took me seriously when I said I wanted it all to go away. Thought it was the easy way out, put me out of my misery, and become the grieving fiancé, everybody wins.
I watch helplessly as Theo and Stephanie enter the room. He throws her down on the bed, ripping her wedding dress. I’m invisible to them, always have been, literally now. Pulling him in by his collar she demands “Eat my pussy!” He laughs and obliges, then unzips his pants.
Oh hell no.
I climb on top of Stephanie, and my spirit sinks into her body, I consume her actions. Finally in control of her. I use her spindly legged slutty stilettos to kick him in the stomach. She struggles to regain will. Theo looks at her puzzled, holding his stomach, then laughs and rips her stilettos off and climbs on top of her. Inebriated she goes along with it. Always the puppet. The pretty doll.
I leave Stephanie’s body sink and sink into Theo’s. I feel his strength, his lust. I move his body to her head and make him say “part your lips.” I am the ventriloquist. She follows his orders, my orders. I thrust his dick into her mouth and plug her nose with his right hand, at first he doesn’t resist my control, until I won’t let him stop. He struggles to break free from my spirit’s control, but I am the vengeful marionettist.
Stephanie thrashes, her face turns blue and right before her doll’s eyes roll back in her head I make him say:
“Ann says hi.”
I published this originally today for a poetry challenge at theprose.com Please click the hyperlink as the challenge also takes into account the number of views.
A ghost lived once
inside this house
They say he murdered his kids
And then his spouse.
He fell in love
With someone else
He told his wife
Their marriage was false.
She went into the bathroom
And closed the door
She took the kids with her
She loved no more.
He went to find them,
The doorknob was hot.
He flinched and jumped back
As smoke billowed out.
He pounded on the door
Then kicked it down,
Looking for their bodies
On the tiled ground.
His face sizzled and burned
Before the fire went out
Then he was alone
He cried and shout.
He went to the hospital
For his burned face
They looked at him and whispered
His deformity out of place.
He suffered and grieved
In the old house he cried.
They made up a rumor
after he died:
A ghost lived once
inside this house .
He murdered his kids
And then his spouse.