The last dance

The last dance

By: L.F. Young

26 April 2025

*trigger warning: some bad language, and imagery.

*not my picture

Dear scumbag,

    “Hello my shadowed, twin. We eagerly par take this chance, to dance… once again. You and I. This time, my fair haired beauty. Let’s see if fate shall be an unkindly mistress. To thee or me! Shall we play our swan song, while we pirouette together as the blood moon rises. Singing us a lullaby melody. Of death and glory! In this soured tit-for-tat, jamboree, to our good old days. Now that you and I, no longer breathe in the refreshing month of May. But bask in the twilight moments of this bittersweet, aged December ways. So if any semblance of merriment, still beats within that encrusted villainous scab you call a soul. I gift you this last gilded tidings. Come what may, and damnation to chivalry and if you carry any semblance of a backbone. I’ll wait for thee at our old stomping grounds. As the last blood moon sings her farewell melodious tune to the end of a century and the remaining tic-toc’s of our lives.

P.S.

    You probably won’t show, you spineless swamp maggot!!!

P.S.S.

    Oh. One last thing. You soured troglodytes inflamed ball sack. I pined a rather up close and personal image you might find interesting. Oh, it’s nothing… just your last living relative. Oh, oops. Your last no longer living relative, in a rather perverse position with a sweet nine millimeter bullet hole in the center of her forehead. Don’t worry, she felt no pain… unlike you, you dung beetle, crap swizzler.

P.S.S.S.

    Oh snap! Isn’t that your only daughter in the pic I sent you…? See you nine pm sharp! You one inch limp wrist momma’s boy. Ok, ok, ok. This was truly the last thing. :joy: 🤣 :joy:

Gabriel Anton Riddle had never known fear or rage after he strangled his birth mother, with his bare hands when he was ten. She had the nasty habit of counting the tiny cuts she put on his body. As she was doing it, while he was tied up in that metal chair, that she loved to strap him in once a week. She said it was to bleed out the devil within him. Gabriel kept that metal chair for a reminder of who he was and what he’d lived through.

Gabriel leaned back on the park bench and stared at the screen of his brand new phone. Bewilderment edged across his scared face. He hadn’t even ed his own phone number yet. He’d just bought the damn phone ten minutes ago, at one of those pop up roadside stands with a pay as you go plan so as to stay off the big brothers radar. Gabby as his daughter call’s him always laughed. Telling him he was wasting his money constantly buying new phones every few months.

Gabriel’s breath caught mid inhale, as a fluster of emotions slammed into his chest, he tried to breathe. But couldn’t. Gabriel had to swallow back a tear that was trying to slip past his eyelid. He never cried, even as he mentally counted those cuts his mother gave him. Ten thousand and fifty two was the total of cuts she inflicted upon his body. Ten thousand and fifty two minute little scars were decorated all over his lithe form.

Gabriella was his pride and joy… was dead! A furry he’d never known grew within his stomach. Reaching into his heart as it made its way to his mind.

“How the hell did she get my number?” Said Gabriel to the small flock of pigeons that had gathered around him as he fed them pieces of old stale bread. On the old wooden park bench sitting next to the man made pond with ducks and swans floating carelessly on the crystal clear water. Only one single rage inducing thought turned round and round in his aching heart.

“What the hell is wrong with her, how could she kill our daughter? Our only daughter.” Thought Gabriel.

Gabriel Anton Riddle tossed the last few remaining bread crumbs to the pigeons as he stood and made his way quietly through the lunchtime crowd of college students who were hurrying on their way back to their next class. Each student clueless to the knowledge that they had been relaxing the whole time in the park. Right next to the most prolific sociopathic cannibal, that had ever lived as he quietly fed pigeons bred crumbs. And mumbled to himself.

“How dare that ex-wife of mine refuse me the opportunity to stalk, hunt and devour my very own flesh and blood!” Thought Gabriel, and his once measured pace was shattered and an unbridled desire hurried his footsteps. As his furry reached unimaginable heights. He started mentally picking out which of his favorite instruments he would use to torture his beloved soon to be ex-wife with.