Moulded Muse

Maybe it’s just me but time seems to be moving much faster. My only consolation is that my weekly addiction to ‘Friday Fictioneers’ comes around quicker as well. Get yourselves over and join Rochelle Wisoff-Fields eclectic band of storytellers. A 100 word flash fiction based on the weekly photo prompt provided.

This week’s photo comes from Renee Heath.

melting-wax-renee-heath

He gave her till sunrise or till the candle burned out. There was no clock, no hands to focus on. No beat of the minutes from one hour to the next, only the relentless invisibility of anticipation and fear.

She heard a noise. The barest scent of sweetness fanned her cheek and she drew the cover closer. Dawn’s early blaze lit one corner of the bedframe.  Then the chloroform, sweet and pungent, covered her face. Sunrise disappeared into darkness.

He laid the wax over her still warm skin as he whispered “You did say you’d die to see my next piece”.

45 thoughts on “Moulded Muse

  1. Helen, An evil, genius sculptor on the loose. They better get him before he finds his next victim. O_o He’s liable to fill the museum with his victims. Where is a hero when you need one? Well written. 🙂

    Susan

  2. If only you’d written the remake of House of Wax. It would have been a far better movie. Love how you pull us in with the calm scene and leave us freaked out with the last line. Very effective way to creep us out.

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