Guilt

Rhonda Parrish

Like a worm in an apple

it tunnels through me

Nibbling paths and trails;

weakening me

sapping my confidence

undermining me.

It stays hidden

deep

where no one can see it.

I feel it

writhing inside

insidious

Until I cut deep inside

and rip it out.

Hell Tempted Me

Rhonda Parrish

          Hell tempted me. Not by spewing forth red horned demons, nor by offering money or fame. No, it and the one who presides over it are far too clever for that. Far too clever. It tempted me with the one thing it knew I couldn't resist—you.

          I've gone through the same thing every night since the accident, every night for six weeks. Some part of me couldn't let you go and accept that you no longer slept beside me. Every night I longed to feel you there, your breath on my skin, your warm arms wrapped around my waist pulling me tight against you. I missed you so much, even your snore rumbling in my ear would have been welcome. Every night when I went to bed alone I wanted those things so badly I could almost feel them.

          Almost.

           I would lay in our bed, your side empty and cold, and imagine you with me. I'd remember how it felt to be held by you, to lay for hours touching and laughing, talking and sharing. It was easy to take our time together for granted, but now that it's gone every moment is more precious than oil, meant to be relived and savored, remembered and treasured.

          Last night I felt the bed shift, settling beneath your weight, but I knew if I opened my eyes, you wouldn't be there. Couldn't be there. You were a figment of my overactive imagination; I was torturing myself, again.

          Then I felt your fingers tangle themselves in my hair. You played with it, tugging and teasing, exactly how I like it. I felt your chest, warm and solid against my back. My breath caught in my throat. Is this what it feels like to go insane? I wondered, Is this madness? Because if it is I'll take it! Let me lay here wrapped in your arms, your fingers dancing in my hair. Let me forget about the accident; let me forget this can't be real. Let me go insane. If this is insanity, insanity beats reality.

          I sighed and moved to turn around, but your hand on my shoulder stopped me. You didn't say a word, you didn't need to. I shivered as I felt your fingers glide over my skin and ease the sheets off me as they made their way down the swell of my breasts, over the curve of my waist and across my hips. You tickled all the little hairs on my body, and sent tiny jolts of electricity through me as I snuggled deeper into your embrace.

          Your fingers nudged my thighs apart. I felt your hardness press against my bottom and wiggled playfully. The way your grip tightened on my hip told me you'd noticed and I half-laughed into the darkness.
          Oh, how I wanted to open my eyes and turn around to see you, but I was afraid to. Insanity or not, I didn't want to let this go, let you go. Not for an instant. Not ever.

          One of your hands tangled in my hair and pulled my head back.  I felt your lips warm against my neck while your other hand skillfully teased me. After so many years together, you knew how to touch me, and I felt my passion grow as your fingers delved deep into my secret places and made me wiggle and squirm.

          I shifted and pressed against you, enjoying the feeling of you throbbing against my wetness. I sighed, once again, and felt your breath, hot on my cheek and ripe with the smell of sulfur.

          Sulfur?

          I twisted toward you, eyes wide open, and found myself alone. I was no longer wrapped in your arms, but tangled in our sheets, your pillow empty and cold.

    In addition to being the editor of Niteblade Fantasy and Horror Magazine, Rhonda has had short stories and poems accepted by several dozen magazines and anthologies which include: Abominations from Shroud Publishing and Arcane Whispers by Wolfsinger Publications. You can learn more about her at her website http://www.rhondaparrish.com