Crimson Echo
April 9, 2009
Crimson Echo, by Michael Michaelides
The echo of her laughter in his thoughts, a chime of purest energy – the slash of a knife… She was here now, a blurred figure in the empty space left in his mind, delving the blade deeper and deeper, drowning him in a lake of sorrow and despair.
“I have to go… I… I can’t stay any longer; I have to leave – we talked last night… You understand, right?”
The knife had been dipped into bile before she impaled him with it. It seems she was fixed upon a most painful, excruciating death for the monster lurking inside him. Here was the echo again, accompanied by a perfect crimson this time, filling his eyes. A slow smile started to spread – a weak, broken smile, that carried with it more pain and anguish than the greatest flood of tears.
“Heh – yeah, sure…”
What a fool! A fool indeed! Even Shakespearean characters carried more prudence!
“They’re calling – I have to go, we’ll talk!”
The water started sipping through the mouth, filling as it went his lungs – he literally did have to leave. Consciousness was abandoning him, his senses giving in to this overwhelming feeling of purposelessness, of futility. As he pulled out the knife, he screamed, and all the water that got inside started pouring out from his eyes- don’t worry though, no dying… just a hole left behind as the bile was eating through him; and an echo.
