QueenElf

How translucent her skin looks in the moonlight, the faint cobweb of blue veins tattooing a map to her heart. I could strike now, but first I need to look into her eyes, those glittering blue orbs that have kept me spellbound for so many years. A pale gleam from the bedside light casts shadows around the room. How they leap from corner to bed and back again, ricocheting the knife's silvery threat. Her pupils are large, good girl; she has taken the tablets I left for her. Now all that remains is the ritual ceremony, and for that she needs the silken scarves removed from her dainty arms. Silently her eyes beseech me as I gently unwind the knotted silk, only the best for my beloved. I raise her enough to drink the wine and take my own cup, as the seconds tick away I am drowning once again in her hypnotic gaze¦¦¦¦

No tears today dad¦.or tomorrow either. Does that sound wicked; surely I should be remembering the anniversary of your death with some kind of sorrow? Well, you made that kind of difficult for us, popping your clogs on the 29th February 1996. Should I remember it every four years or toss a coin to choose on the other three years? You would appreciate the irony, being a gambler for most of your life. Of course you could say you planned it so you'd get two days of mourning, but that wasn't your style. Grand entrances and exits were entirely another matter. Flamboyant, eccentric or just plain ornery that was you in a nutshell.