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BLOOD ROMANCE



It was his idea to skip the main road and go for adventure at the middle of the night. Her mood was already bright as she laid her head on his shoulder. Driving through the woods, suddenly the tyre went flat.

It was an abrupt jerk. Comprehending the situation, they both felt elated. Except the slow waltz that played in their car, everything was quiet.
Wasn’t this what they both wanted? Albeit, for different reasons.
Quelling their excitement, they wore the well-rehearsed masks of fear and disgust for getting caught in this unwanted situation.
She had carried the knife hidden securely beneath the drapes of her dress as was his lust, veiled by the clemency of his innocent blue eyes.

Already in her 40’s, her body exuded the rare combination of sensuality, intelligence and beauty. As an artist, she always had her muses in younger men---guys in their 20’s. The passion that these men enthused kept her adrenaline gushing and her arts towered to their crescendo. Her paintings were vividly RED...the flowing red gowns, the red berries, red lips, red ruby… RED was her signature.
Sixty years of his mortal life has been a quest to find the Elixir. Seven years ago, he had found one...the special RED wine, which had been turning him younger by the years until he turned the blue eyed 20-something that he is now. The Elixir was a potion prepared from rare herbs, chemicals and the salubrious RED liquid—easily available, yet so rare.
The chance, unexpectedly thrown across their paths was favorable...the obfuscating darkness and no witnesses. They moved out of the car and as they stood close to each other, the labyrinths of their mind explored means of unerringly getting the desired.
Embracing each other, they locked their lips into a deep and passionate kiss as if they had no care except the fact that she remembered her incomplete painting and he, his unfilled glass.
They began to waltz. Strange dance it was------the closer they moved, the murkier it turned, the smoother he lifted her off the thirstier he grew for her, the deeper the night turned, the thought of sanguine pictures brightened up her mood—
------until he posed the first blow. The cut he endowed wasn’t deep and she stabbed him with astounding celerity.
It took moments to realize that both were armed and either couldn’t possibly guess why the other was. No turning back now. The tempo increased. The trees silently looked upon the animals that blood waltz---cutting and stabbing each other as they danced and kissed. She was swift…he was smooth but she won.

He collapsed.
Frantically searching for something, she finally found it and held it close to his wounds. Wearing the victorious smile, in exhaustion she closed her eyes and it was then she got the fatal blow. In his final moments he could afford the energy to slit her throat.
She fell upon him. Bloody and close, they lay like lovers in deep embrace

Their bodies were found the next day. Their death was passed off as planned suicide of two deranged brains.
What many couldn’t comprehend was an empty wine glass and a half blood filled paint bottle lying close to their bodies.
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