The Ninth Nail by Crimson Quintessence
You broke my heart, you devil you. It was the only organ I had left that was mine and mine alone.
If I were to pick up one of the fragmented shards, I’d likely use it to cut you to shreds. Then watch the crimson ooze from each wound as my fingers dance in them, one by one.
Crimson looks quite back in the moon’s light, don’t you think, Stanley?
I reserve my dark and divine right to bathe in it, death’s dance. Let it caress my torn soul and blacken me as that soul of mine dies with the rest of me.
Buckets of blood weighted down with the rusty nails I drove into the ends of each finger and toe.
Broken bones, puzzle pieces of a fractured man.
Revenge, my divine father taught me well.
Carve each bit of flesh like a fine leather he said.
I’m the blind guardian praying for deliverance.
I was organized, but the ninth nail was stuck in an awkward place, the wrong place.
Somehow, it shot right through your thumb and embedded itself in your throat.
You should’ve listened to me and sat still.
Now, look at what you’ve done.
I tried to make something so utterly grotesque look beautiful through my art and you’ve ruined it.
You completely disturbed my flow.
How can I remove the metal splinter from the canvas without destroying my masterpiece?
Frustrated, I take a moment to breathe, to think, pacing back and forth.
Now, you’ve become a thorn in my very own throat.
How dare you!
If only you were a flower, I’d rip your petals off one by one. with each exhale, with each tear.
I sat, pondering what to do next.
Then I found my hands around your throat, I’ve never felt alive before now, this moment.
An idea comes to me.
Behold, the headless man, my masterpiece.
The ninth nail paved way for the greatest horror art I have ever created.
Hatred only boiled in my stomach for a moment or two.
Acid clawed its way up my own throat but I swallowed it down.
Tears may have seeped from my blackened eyes briefly.
But now, now your dead corpse is just something I wrote.
The flower in my heart bloomed with brand new blood-petals.
I took the ninth nail home with me and my new artwork.
I used it to mount my new delight on the wall of my study.
The ninth nail is all I ever needed to finish what was started.
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