till death do us consolidate

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“Drop that!”

A shot reverberated across the tensed chamber, the walls and granite floor rippling in contradictory effects. Plaster filtered down through the air like strewn confetti that caught and glinted off the sun that shone through the enormous stained glass windows, shot off the ground and littered across the reposed bodies of those fearing for their precious lives; hands covered faces as various films of expressions rolled across it.

The consequent silence reproved the chamber for any further noise than those of the gunman and his wife now glaring at each other from across a distance. The omnipresent silence silently degusted upon the hush that spread like hot oil, affecting all that breathed within the steel enforced concrete confines.

The bulge-eyed guard that took it upon himself to save the innocent people from the lunatic wielding an impressive Smith & Wesson 500 Magnum dropped his own gun and fell to the floor with a pathetic yelp.

“Thomas? Thomas, drop your weapon and come out slowly with your arms raised. No one needs to die today; do you hear me? God damn it, Thomas, do you understand what I am telling you?”

Thomas drew a deep breath, exhaled, and drew upon the archaic puissance this one moment brought, filling his arteries and head with cantankerous strength. He directed the gun at his wife and implored her with his tear-brimmed eyes. His soulful gaze slid down to the Taurus 605B2 Revolver she had aimed at his face, her confident stance that of Aphrodite, her eyebrows aloft while deep blue eyes dared him to shoot her.  

“I won’t let you leave me,” he said, his voice aquiver with conflicting emotions.

She said nothing, and captivated his eyes with her own amused glare.

She was so damn beautiful. Her olive skin was flawless, her hair dark and lustrous in effective contrast, her face innocent yet ruthless, her body voluptuous in all the right places – and her legs. Oh, sweet mother of man, her legs.

“Can I say some-” bang!

A plangent silence befell the group of people when the man who tried to speak got his head blown away. Crimson patterns stained the far wall and dripped off the smoothed surface, but no one screamed. No one dared move or even utter a prayer to their respective gods.

Thomas’s wife looked down at the headless body sprawled in the last position it will ever occupy, a smile flickering along the sleek lines of her full, red lips. Her hungry eyes shot up towards her husband, reeling him towards her.

“How can I ever leave you when I love you so? How can I leave when the madman I fell in love with has returned to me?” she asked him, her voice broken, and he ran into her embrace. He buried his tear-stained face in her bosom and engulfed her frail body with his masculine arms, pulling her into him. They kissed each other hard and long, oblivious of the onlookers that looked up to them in obvious derision. The two nuptial lovers could not keep their hands off one another as their fiery love consumed all intelligence and condensed it into that of animalistic need.

“Thomas, I know you can hear me. Surrender now or bear the consequences,” the noisy, forever alone cop screamed in aid of his megaphone.

The mechanically altered voice jolted the lovers back to reality, their eyes still glazed with sexual hunger as they reluctantly parted lips. They grinned at each other. The wife threw her head back and laughed aloud.

She pointed towards the reinforced glass doors of the bank that exited onto the street where a dozen police cars already stood in wait, guns at the ready, rotating roof lights glaring at the midday sun, and witnesses clustered in feigned horror-stricken groups, finally having something to watch than looking upon their own colourless lives.

“That bag on the floor next to the doors. I brought your M-16, love. I thought you might need it when my sister woke me up this morning. Man I hate that bitch. Never let me go again, do you understand me?”

Thomas smiled and kissed his wife hard. He let her go and strode towards the doors.

“Let’s kill some cops, shall we,” he said menacingly.   

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3 thoughts on “till death do us consolidate

  1. Pingback: Tea appreciation session #9 | cherrytales

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