When Romantic Metaphors Turn Creepy, Part III

Just in time for Halloween... If you want to read the earlier entries, they're here: Part I, Part II.

Sarah parked the car and hurried towards the church. The hairdresser had taken longer than she expected, and Sarah was running a little late. The ceremony wouldn't start for another twenty minutes, but there were still things to do. Putting on my dress, mainly, she reflected. She wondered again if she and Tom should have eloped, but... no. She really did want a traditional wedding, even knowing everything that it would require.

Lisa met her at the door and hurried her into the dressing room. Sarah caught a glimpse of Tia, her college roommate and Maid of Honor, in the sanctuary. Tia was keeping her mom distracted with floral arrangements, which was good. It would give her time to dress.

The preparations went by in a blur. Sarah's mother gusted through, kissed her, and then was gone again; Lisa guided her gently back outside before she could start them both crying and ruin their makeup. Tia came in, hugged Sarah, then went to check her hair.

When Sarah looked up again, the music was playing and her father was standing in the doorway. "Are you ready?" he asked gently.

Sarah looked away, knowing that if she saw tears in his eyes she'd start crying herself. She wasn't sure if she was ready - who ever was? - but she nodded. How could the most important day of her life be going by so quickly?

Tia helped her stand, and made sure her dress was arranged correctly. It was beautiful, long and white, satin with lace accents; it made Sarah look like a princess. She took a breath, and nodded to her father. Tia was already going out the door, to be escorted down the aisle by the Best Man. She took her father's arm, and waited.

A moment later (it seemed) they were walking. Everyone was standing, all her friends and family, and they were all looking at her. She barely saw anyone: her eyes were on Tom, who waited - tall and dark and handsome - in front of the altar. He stood stiffly, but his smile was wide and genuine. Tia and Lisa were off to one side, Charles and Will to the other. The priest was standing just behind Tom, next to the altar.

Sarah kept her steps steady, matching her father's pace despite a sudden urge to rush. It seemed to take forever to reach the altar, but finally they were there. Her father led her up to her place, beside Tom and in front of the altar. Then he stepped past her, in front of the altar itself. The priest nodded and discreetly passed him the microphone. Out in the aisles, their friends and family were seating themselves.

"Ladies and Gentlemen..." Her father's voice broke, and he took a moment to recover himself. "We're very glad to have you here. Six months ago, this young man came to my house to ask for my daughter's hand. With the agreement of Sarah and her mother, I gave him my consent. Now the day is here, and it is my great pleasure to give my daughter's hand to Tom Grayson."

He reached out and pulled the cleaver up from the top of the altar. Sarah came forward, filled with an inseparable mixture of anticipation and dread. The priest stepped up and helped her pull back the sleeve as she carefully extended her arm. She placed her wrist on the ceremonial cutting board, and thought to herself: Finally.

When Romantic Metaphors Turn Creepy, Part II

Part I can be found here, if you're interested.

Sergeant John Davis ducked under the yellow tape and entered the dorm room. As an officer of the city's police department, he didn't usually work on campus; the campus police handled day to day issues here. A case like this, though - with a young man dead in his dorm room - was something else altogether. Campus police didn't have the resources for a thorough investigation, so they called him in.

Billings met him just inside the door. "Looks like another one," he said. "There's not a mark on him, no sign of pills or ingested poison, no indication that he strangled. It looks like he just collapsed. He was still sitting in front of his computer."

Davis nodded. It happened - maybe twice a semester, here at the college, and about that often for the entire rest of the city. They always investigated, because it would be far too easy to disguise a homicide as this sort of death, and he always hated it. It shouldn't have to happen this way.

Billings waited while Davis pulled on a pair of latex gloves, then led him to the computer. He touched the keyboard and the screensaver vanished, revealing the e-mail that the boy had been reading when he died.

Davis glanced at the first lines. Dear Martin, I'm so very sorry to be writing to you this way... He scrolled down to the end. ...Hope that someday you will see that this was for the best. Best Wishes, Christine. He scrolled back up, and read through the whole thing.

"She didn't even call him," Billings said from behind him. Davis could see Billings' reflection in the screen, shaking his head sadly.

Sergeant Davis straightened. "Do we know who Christine is?"

"She's the victim's girlfriend - or she was. Christine Sumner, eighteen years old, student at Rhoades College in Tennessee."

"All right." Davis peeled his gloves off. "Call Memphis, have them pick her up." The e-mail gave him more than enough Probable Cause.

"Glad to," said Billings, and hurried away.

"Jesus," said Davis. "An e-mail like that... It'll be manslaughter, at least." He'd have to wait for the Coroner's report to be sure, but he already knew what had happened. He'd seen it happen far too often: two kids dating in high school, then graduating and heading for separate colleges. Sooner of later, one of them met somebody new. The smart ones did their breaking up in person, or over the phone. Christine had been in too much of a hurry, or she hadn't wanted to deal with Martin. Something like that. So she'd sent him an e-mail.

And broken his heart.

With All My Heart

Jason met Shannon in his Sophmore year of college; she was a Freshman. They met at a party in his fraternity house; most of her sorority was there. She was on the swim team, and planned to major in Nursing; he was working on his MBA, ran track and cross-country. They'd talked the night away, and he'd walked her back to her room.

Now Shannon was finishing her Junior year, and Jason was getting ready to graduate. The time had clearly come to make a decision. Jason knew what he wanted; now he could only hope that Shannon wanted the same thing. So he had gathered everything he needed, and then invited her over.

He met her at the front of the dorm and escorted her up to his room. His roommate was out, and wouldn't be back for hours; it was just the two of them.

Her eyes brightened when she saw the flowers, and she smiled at the box of chocolates. Dark chocolates, of course; that was what she liked. She turned to look at him, but he smiled and stepped around her. She took a step after him, and they stopped at the dresser where he had arranged his gifts.

The flowers were the most prominent, of course, but the chocolates were leaning against them so as to be more visible. Shannon picked up the box, looked it over, and set it aside. Jason watched with nervous pleasure as she picked up the roses. She sniffed at them, and started to turn towards him. Then she saw the small, velvet-covered box that had been hidden beneath them, and froze.

"Oh, Jason." Her voice was full of anxious wonder. "Did you really...?"

He nodded and reached for the box. He pulled the top back - it opened easily on its hinges - to show her what was inside. It sparkled in the light from the window.

"Yes." His voice was choked; he swallowed and tried again. "I want to give you my heart, Shannon. And I can only hope..."

"Oh, my love," she answered. "Of course I'll give you mine in return."

She reached into the box, her eyes fixed on the shining object within. "It really is lovely," she said...

...and pulled out the scalpel.