Copyright 2005 Jeff Vickers
The forest began to glow a bright, straw orange. As the old LaPaglia house burned to the ground, the light from the pyre, along with the billows of smoke, erased the stars from the sky. Maria, standing quietly by a tree, takes a drag of her cigarette, while staring hypnotically into the blaze engulfing the home.
* * *
Inside an old Victorian home, Maria, standing over the body of Carmine, sneered in disgust, and spat on the man. Carmine did not stir. Nor did he stir after mild kicks to the sternum or abdomen, though he still breathed labouriously. Maria noticed the liquor cabinet, and took the bat she was brandishing, and smashed the lock.
Maria hurriedly poured herself a bourbon, which she only half drank. The rest she spilled over Carmine’s motionless body. The remainder of the contents of the liquor cabinet were methodically spread about the beautiful wooden home.
Maria, sensing her job was nearly complete, lit a cigarette in an act of celebration. After two puffs, she tossed the fag into a small pool of liquor, which almost immediately ignited.
* * *
“Maria, what are you doing?” screamed Carmine, clutching his bloody groin, and hobbling towards the slender woman, who stared him down like an eagle stares down it’s prey.
Maria said nothing. From behind her back she drew a wooden Louisville Slugger, and without hesitation or remorse, assailed Carmine repeatedly until he lay nearly motionless on the floor.
* * *
Maria entered Carmine’s room, where the old man lay sleeping, looking peaceful, breathing deeply. Maria mounted Carmine, who still did not stir. Maria carefully unfastened the old man’s pants, and drew both trousers and unmentionables down to knee length.
Like a pro, Maria began to arouse Carmine. Her gaze focused on his face, she continued, waiting for the old man to catch up. Carmine slowly roused, and when the old man came to, and made eye contact with Maria, she knew it was time. She drew the switchblade from her belt, and immediately, yet methodically, removed Carmine’s manhood with the skill of a surgeon.
The bloodcurtling scream that ensued could wake the dead. Carmine immediately rose, though tripped on his pants. He quickly pulled them up, and gave pursuit of Maria until he saw her standing opposite him in the living room. Unbeknownst to Carmine, Maria was brandishing a baseball bat behind her back.
* * *
Maria entered the old home cautiously, her nerves a total wreck. She questioned herself with every step, every breath, and every motion. As she approached the hallway to Carmine’s bedroom, an old picture of herself as a young girl, hanging from the wall, caught her attention. Maria’s apprehension immediately turned to anger. Straw yellow flames burned in her eyes, and she continued onto Carmine’s room.
* * *
Maria continued to gaze at the blazing home, with a sardonic grin, knowing her job was now done. As she continued to gaze, the memories began to fill her, as her barriers were finally down. The visits in the middle of the night. The gags. Being bound in her own bed in that house. All the times that Carmine raped Maria, his own daughter, flooded into Maria’s mind, and she broke down into tears.
A dark figure emerged from the home ablaze. As it drew closer, Maria’s tears turned back to anger. It was Carmine.
“Was what I did really that bad? I made you a woman baby.”
Maria swung at Carmine, though all she hit was air. All Carmine could do was laugh. “I will be with you always now, daughter dearest.”
