Blade’s descent

Myron Blade looked at Kristanabel across the tossed sheets in the dim room light of the Marbol Hotel and thought: Oh, God!

There were two parts to this thought. One was, oh, God, I’m going to prison.  The other was, oh God, that was good.

At least she had turned 16. If only she were 18. If only she were not his foster child. If only he could get a grip on himself.  If only.  If only.

He sighed.

Myron had no idea what he was up against. In the year since the girl came to live with his family, she had said little out loud, but she had said much in other ways.

The slow strolls between the bathroom and her bedroom with the loose towel slipping. The prolonged stares over the dinner table directly into his eyes as Mrs. Blade served broccoli or mashed potatoes or pork chops to the children, the real children.

Kristanabel was no child and perhaps had never been.  The Blades knew little of her past, especially that she had killed her parents in cold blood while they slept.

They knew nothing of her cunning, her remarkable intelligence, that she had neither morals nor heart. They were deceived by her calm face and occasional sweet smile.

Then one day it happened. Words were whispered in the dark evening hallway as Mrs. Blade washed dishes. Hands moved this way and that.  A wicked young smile here, heavy breathing there.

Just a few moments in the hall shadows, the two of them.

* * * *

This was not their first visit to the Marbol Hotel. It was their fifth, and each was better than the last. Both felt that way, but for different reasons. As he breathed harder, she tightened the rope, the trap. She dug the hole deep and dark.

He looked at her. She had filled out over the past year. She had arrived thin. Now she was rounded. Her hair was long and blonde, and there were freckles.

There was a knock at the door.

Myron jumped up naked, rushed over and opened it a crack.  Two cold blue eyes below a buzz cut stared at him.  Whatcha doing in there, sport?

* * * *

(One of a series titled  The Marbol Hotel.)

8 thoughts on “Blade’s descent”

  1. Back in the day when a families’ dirty laundry was washed at home, one of our neighbors had a big family, seven girls and four boys. The last daughter went to the law about her father. She and her older sister were put in the home where they put wayward kids. For their own protection I guess. The man had fathered two kids by a couple of the older girls, their boyfriends had married them thinking the kids were theirs. The old man was sick with cancer at the time, the law let him die at home.
    There are plenty of bad apples in the country, it’s not just the city folk.

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  2. Hard story to comment on. Easier to pass on by, and stomach, than let one’s mind tarry on and consider! We all are aware, and I’m sure profane thoughts such as Myron’s, have entered even the most upstanding citizens minds. We can all recall an event or two that repulsed us. Sad thing, all of the Human Race may be capable of commiting the same act as Mr. Blade, Man or Woman!

    I didn’t look up the year but in my earlier years I remember a Movie named “Lolita”. An underaged young nymph who preyed on an older man. Risque film at the time. Admitted or not, I’m sure alot of men after seeing the movie, could relate to Myron Blade! The difference being was , some repressed the thoughts and some were in a situation that allowed them to carry out their desires.

    Spawned by Diablo himself, Kristanable, resides and thrives in the Unseen Moon!

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    1. Parker: Though this is not eliciting many comments, it is the second-most visited item here since I began this website early last month. Since you mentioned Lolita, it’s interesting to note what a scandalous thing it was thought to be when the book came out (and later the movie). Nowadays it’s downright calm in comparison to the culture in general.

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  3. Perhaps you will notice fewer comments, as the content of the Unseen Moon is not of a personal nature. Some may be less inclined to respond, and more apt to just read, and wonder, and wait for more!

    All Best,

    Lilly

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