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Warning: This story contains violent content. Reader discretion is advised.

They stood there, after countless hours of conversation about nothing, looking into each other’s eyes. Two people, a young man and a woman, with their whole lives ahead of them. Naïve, with budding sexuality still, like tiny blades of grass that have yet to fully grow. He once thought of her as a sister, and she thought of him as a big brother, one whose shoulder she can cry on, and vice versa. That was just a few hours ago, a few minutes ago, before this moment of revelation. Neither one could escape it.

Her mouth was slightly ajar; she was lost in the intense, swelling sea of his eyes. They regarded her as the only existence in the infinite vastness of the universe at this moment, as he slowly moved toward her. She did not move at all, but regarded him as if in a daze. She was overcome by his very presence and the weight of the situation, but it was soft, warm, crushing, and in spite of herself and all the values and reservations she was reared with, she welcomed it.

He knew nothing of nothing as he approached her, step by step, until his face was half an inch from hers. They seemed to breathe in unison, and it was heavy with anticipation of what was about to happen. They both knew it, yet it never came to either of them as a conscious thought. It was as though the whole world had stopped, and there was no sound, save for the breathing of the two lovers-to-be. This had to be the Hand of Fate, making things move as they were.

They each took in one last breath, and then…their lips touched. It was innocent at first, their lips merely touching, before they opened their mouths, this young man and woman at the threshold of Life, and began to kiss deeper with a slow yet building passion. It was a kiss rooted deep in emotion, such that none was aware of until this very millisecond when one could taste the fruit of need and wonder in the other’s mouth. To him, it was faintly sweet, like cantaloupe, and to her, his mouth was like divine nectar from the chalice of a god, for this was her first kiss ever in her entire short life.

For both of them, it was electrifying too, but it was a warm, buzzing electricity that hummed, and it spread like wildfire through each of their bodies until neither was aware of the floor beneath their feet. He laid his left hand onto the back of her head, and pressed her mouth a little more firmly to his.

There was no wind, no crickets chirping outside; the clock that was in the room with them had long stopped ticking. But there was a sound that he heard for one fleeting second; to him it sounded like the approach of footsteps before a pause, and then the sound of those same footsteps rapidly moving away. But that was merely a dream to him. The kiss, and the girl he was sharing it with, were the only real things left in existence. His ears went shut, and then there was nothing else.

He clamped the hand that he had placed on the back of her head more firmly. She let out a tiny little moaning of a sound, the kind of sound that one would make at crossing a new threshold into an undiscovered reality. It was the cry of a release.

There was a click. Neither of them heard it. His mouth was one with hers; they were bound. He burrowed his fingers into her soft hair. And then, the back of her head exploded.

She pulled back from him violently, her eyes bulging in shock and surprise and fear, and what looked to him to be the beginning registers of pain. It was, however, already too late. Where there had been the spot on the back of her head on which he laid his hand, was now mush, and his hand was buried in it. He heard chunks of something falling onto the floor. And when he withdrew his hand to look at it, his eyes grew wide in horror. It was covered in blood, and something else that looked like scrambled eggs. Her brain.

He looked into the eyes of the girl who he had been kissing. They were very much open indeed, but they could no longer see him, or anything else, this side of existence. She was gone.

His grip on her loosened, and she fell with a loud thud onto the floor. And when he looked up beyond the corpse, and beyond his bloody, brain matter covered hand, straight in front of him there he saw his wife. The one that he’d promised to love, honor and cherish. Standing there directly in front of him, with a .45 in her hand. He stood motionless, still holding his hand in front of him. The smell of blood and gunpowder hung in the air. A great red pool was growing around the head of the girl who was alive and kissing him in what now seemed a millennia ago.

“I told you never to betray me,” the wife intoned to her husband.

“But…how could you do that to her? She was your friend…our friend,” he replied to her. His voice was monotone, and barely above a whisper.

“Yes, that’s exactly it,” said the wife as she raised the gun once more and pointed it at her husband. “She was my friend…and you are my husband!”

There was no sound after that, save for one more gun shot. Then all was silent for a long, long time.

The end.



The following comments are for "The Kiss"
by Nicquerica

That's a twist...
I'd say that you have a very good ending. You nearly lost me in the first portion, but I forced myself to go on, knowing that the general author here would never write the mushy crap that your opening had me expecting. My patience was well rewarded; you caught me utterly by surprise, and that's fairly rare. Good job building up the reader for the shock. Post more, please!

( Posted by: The Recycled Avatar [Member] On: December 18, 2002 )

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