Bordeaux Blend

caruso_with_phonograph2

Caruso with phonograph, early 1900s. Photo owned by LOC; no known restrictions.


Bordeaux Blend

The needle skipped again. Chatter over incessant seas, love’s death grip seized me. I moved the vase of lifeless tulips—flopping haphazardly—back to the coffee table, in anticipation. As if it mattered where the insignificant tulips sat, but it did. Affairs of such discretion dictated ambiance. Now the music must be changed.

Walter entered the room pulse racing, tormenting me further as I poured the wine. His eyes lapped me up as a puppy would affection. Juncture of life and death just beyond my fingertips, pumping with the liquid I craved, sustenance.

Death ripe on my lips, my tongue snaked the corner of my mouth, inspecting for remains. I stood and righted my cufflinks.

Mimicking the convexity of the tulips’ stems, Walter’s body lay limp on the floor. The last drops of wine pooled on the plush rug. Shame he never got a taste.

Perfect placement for the tulips but the music was off, love never fit quite right.

© Grace Black
160 words


puppy

 Written for Flash! Friday Micro Fiction Contest 

6 thoughts on “Bordeaux Blend

  1. A diabolical tale written in that smoldering prose of yours that I so greatly admire. I read through all the entries earlier and, as usual, your story struck a chord. Gorgeous and deliciously dark. Bravo!

Words, love them! Have some? Leave them.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s