• Simple Serendipity

    I thought I loved him. It was simple serendipity. When he was around, gravity wasn't. Just the memory makes me blush. I remember how we began. The sun shining, bronze upon the waterfront, the waves pounding on the beach, I thought it was heaven. The birds were a choir, making cacophonus noise and his skin smelled like freshly cut wheat as we made frenetic love right there upon the pier. His skin shone like alabaster. In those first weeks, we never hurried.

    As you can guess, things changed. He saw me talking to a neighbor, and like the primitive beast he turned out to be, he struck me. I had half a mind to leave him that moment. I decided, though, that one dispute did not make a war, or even a battle, and I wouldn't let it end us.

    In the fourth week of our relationship, he told me that he needed to go out. While he was gone, I stood by the bar and mixed us both a drink. The window was open, right next to me. I heard yelling. Screaming, really. That is when I made my discovery. He was standing on the beach, right outside our rented cabin. He was yelling at a woman. Another woman, my heart broke. He hit her. She ran away from him, screaming out that she would have nothing to do with his insidious plot. She stumbled, fell, and then he was upon her. I caught a glint of silver as he brought down the knife again and again. When he finally stopped, she looked like a pincushion. He jumped into the waves and washed himself off, and then turned to return to our cabin. I locked the doors, yelled for help, but it was no use. When he found the doors locked, he broke in a window. He found me in my hiding spot, the cubby hole under the stairs, and the last thing I saw was that same glint of silver, and his beautiful face.