Tales Of Romantic Lullabies

I whispered softly. In a vehement tone. We may not rest here tonight, for the ocean tide hasnth rose or fallen. On the stroke of three I heard the whispers. These whispers were as of the whispers of the dead. They echoed stronger and stronger with every second hand tick. Swiftly I move into the room dark and pale. I here her breathing heavy behind me. I am only a theif. A theif of the night. She may not wake up to see my hideousness. The seconds tick away, tick-tock-tick-tock and my fears grow even farther upon my breast. To the point of pain. The Angst caught up with my brain. By four she will be dead.1

I pull a chair from the corner. Setting my deeds on the floor. I sit stealthy, cunning, watching. Only the sound of the breathing is heard. The crashing ocean raises my tension. Softly and low my heart races with every tick. Tonight I am a murderer yet am I just a simple pety theif. Slightly I stand and walk to the bed. I attempt to identify the soon to be corpse. All in vain, all in vain. So I move to the other side of her. Every creak in the floor made me sink more into fear. She awakes I slightly move to beneath the bed. My curiosity strengthens the feelings aflame in my angst. I am a murderer not theif. It a quarter to four a she is not asleep.2

I hear the bed sheets slide back. Is she laying again? Is she sleeping? Soft tones of heartbeat raceing inside me. Pulverises my interior. Wait! I whisper Wait! she cannot be awakened again. I start to the other side of the bed. Slowly pulling the gloves of my hand for they won't be needed for this deed. I climb upon her bed. The smell of smoke in her hair. I attempt to glance at her face. My mask is in the way. I swiftly remove it and peer at her face. The room is to dim. You is this? You should this be? It has fallen upon the hour of four and She is still in her dreams. 3

I gently lift a pillow from the partner side of the bed. I feel her smooth skin slightly brush against mine. My heart sinks even more. I can now see her face. I whispered I loved you! I lay back and stare at the ceiling is this possible. She's much to beautiful. She can't be Elaine Carrington. It just cannot be. As I lifted the pillow again to place it upon her face I hear her in a dreamlike voice whisper I loved you too. Once again I sink into the bed. Intensly o'er come with fear. Is she awake! I bring myself to reality I am not a murderer. A theif am I. It's a half passed four and the sun is appoaching o'er the ocean. I swiftly grab the pillow and press it against her face. She died in peace.4

She lay now dead. Dead as a winter's tree. I sit a moarn as the sun reaches the house. I grab my stolen things and walk to the door. Echoing in my broken heart is her whisper of I love you's. This can not be am I possibly mad. I walk to the peir slowly by five I was dead. Lying on the floor of the ocean n'ver to be seen again. As I tied the bag to my feet. Before my fateful leap. I hear her childs voice burst out in screams. I pondered she hadn't another man since me. Before I could step down I tripped into the sea.