Mallet, the daily prompt.
And then there was none,
no silence, no noise, no time… Nothing.
He opened the door, unlocked the screen.
She opened her eyes, and saw him between her thighs,
– it takes longer to die when you wish it hard…
I looked into his eyes, but he gazed my pants, I pleaded with my face,
since my voice remained estranged,
He said ‘let go, I want to take them off!’
What was I to do, but to obey?
After all, wasn’t my father the one who said ‘listen to men, behave like a woman, and speak when spoken to…. or you won’t be getting any dessert.’
But what to do when men behave like men? What to do then?!
What would a man say?
‘Put that mallet to my head, I have no cure for this disease’
But that’s not what he said. He pulled me back, I remained silent,
He thrust inside of me, as I reached with the tip of my nails
– The wood, smooth and polished, elegantly sitting in my palm…. the weight, noticeable when I closed my fist around the handle… I looked into his eyes again and saw nothing but a beast… And as such, the beast must be put down; by any means possible
– A mallet to the head will do just fine. Closed fist, one last glance… Nothing, no humanity left. I bring my fist of iron down on his head as loud and clean as such mess allows..
His blood tastes like creamless cherries on a Sunday afternoon.