Memorized Beauty (A Flash Fiction)
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 “Do you think I’m beautiful?” I asked the old man after I tied him up on a wooden chair.

My perfect plan went well—seduced the one who raped my sister, brought him in a hotel, manipulated him into having sex with me, and banged the butt of my handgun against his head for a moment of blurred vision before latching a rope around him.

Blood oozed from his mouth. “Ye… I… yes!” He was still dazed from his short knockout.

I went to him and stripped his pants and underwear. I did the same with his white long-sleeves until he was bare before me. “Do you remember my kind of beauty?”

He looked quizzical before he trashed. “Get me out of here! You…”

I clutched his jaw, hard. “Round eyes? Hazel brown eyes? Chin-length brown hair?” I gritted my teeth.

He paused before his eyes widened. “Rose…”

I slapped the tip of the handgun on his face and it cut the skin of his right cheekbone. He yelled. “That’s right. Remember how you enjoyed my twin?” I blew the dusts from my gun.

“Please…” The old man sobbed.

I raised my eyebrow and grinned. “Oh, was that what she said before you raped her? I guess you really end where you started.” I pointed the gun to his groin and fired. His roar pierced through the quiet, cheap hotel and before he created a mess with his voice, I leveled the gun to his forehead before pulling the trigger.

The pool of blood before me was not enough; I still craved for more. Somehow, I found myself unsatisfied with the bastard’s death.


Thank you for reading this story. I hope you’ll read a lot from me. If you ever feel the need to give me some writing advice, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.

let me hold your words before you leave;

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