By Angel Vargas
If love is a many splendored thing,
Why can’t you accept my engagement ring?
I’ve hunted high and low, you see,
and it seems you’re the only one for me.
Maybe I ought to start slowing things down
and not chase the other girls in your town.
Things wouldn’t break down in this brutal fashion
if you just accepted the heat of our passion.
Since I am taking great pains just to write this
I ask that you read it and try not to fight this.
If it would help I can say how this started.
I’ll begin with my parents, the dearly departed.
My father, responding to workplace demands
knew naught of the boy he held in his hands.
Mother was brave and pooled her resources to raise me in spite of the pull of dark forces.
Though loved and secure and presented with choices,
I could not fight the will of the voices.
They set the stage when I was alone
to guide me in hurting adults, fully grown.
The first of my victims was my older sister.
She dated a neighbor we used to call “mister.”
Mister would constantly try to undress her.
My mother knew nothing about it, God Bless her.
My father stayed clueless, but I knew the deal.
And so did the voices, and they took the wheel.
I was to sever his penis, erect
“To teach her the lessons of her disrespect.”
Dishonor they heaped upon my family still
could be cancelled by blade and by my force of will.
So armed with this knowledge, I wielded the knives
that pierced flesh and bone and ended their lives.
The rest of my childhood’s a drug-induced blur.
So if you’re confused, I’m afraid I concur.
The way that I found you is still such a mystery
despite what I know of my own sordid history.
Others who know me attest to my strengths
as well as the varied, incredible lengths
to which I will go to seek out your screams,
for they quell the voices and violent dreams.
This was a theory I came to before
because my sister’s death screams settled the score.
The voices were quiet, the nightmares were gone.
And I slept that night until long past the dawn.
However, I’d killed her, so her voice was gone.
The voices and nightmares returned before long.
What could I do now to make it go silent?
Was my resolution supposed to be violent?
Seeking the next quelling scream was the worst.
The voices deceived me ‘til my eardrums burst.
Potential solutions were shut down too quickly,
their brain matter oozing, their blood spurting thickly.
Scaring you once when I stalked you too much
provided a wonderful finishing touch.
The voices and nightmares left me, it seemed,
the very first time that you saw me and screamed.
Now that I knew this, my mission was clear.
Despite the damned voices, I needed you near.
Your friends and family were just a distraction.
They needed to die for my plan to gain traction.
With each victim’s death, I seemed to grow stronger.
Yet strangely, to find you took longer and longer.
People who foolishly got in my path
paid the ultimate price to spare you my “wrath.”
Yet they didn’t know you were needed alive
if I had a hope to calm down and to thrive.
You didn’t care either. How could you? I get it.
I killed all your loved ones and didn’t regret it.
Time after time when we met, you would fault me
for killing so many. Then you would assault me.
Spear to the eye. Knife to the chest.
Dumdums can’t penetrate a bullet proof vest.
Dogs don’t sniff me out. Police can’t contain me.
Chemicals and straight jackets won’t restrain me.
You course through my veins. You haunt my dark soul.
Your screams will forevermore be my goal.
You ask yourself, “How does he survive?
I’ve tried so long to kill him. How’s he still alive?”
The truth is, dear heart, I always let you win.
At your tallest, you barely reach under my chin.
With tears in your eyes, you can stab, bite and shoot.
And you scream every time! It’s really quite cute.
“I want you to want me.” Cheap Trick said it best.
Do your worst, pretty woman, just scream with your chest.
Did you see the ring? It’s 20 K gold.
The corpse I removed it from wasn’t quite cold.
I got you some chocolates and one dozen roses.
The corpses around you? I set them in poses.
And I won’t be jealous. I’ll give you some space. What’s most fun about you and me is the chase.
I can’t shake the voices and need my head clear.
I’ll just come for you once in a while, my dear.
What will it be, babe? I just need to know.
Do we take the next step for our love to grow?
On this Valentine’s night, I come to impress.
But do me a favor? Scream “Yes! Yes!..
Yes!”
About Angel
Find out more about Angel on his Facebook page and read his short stories here.
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