The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!
The Pose
by Marge Simon
I am on my back. Dominick has arranged my beautiful chestnut hair, spread it out like a fan. I wait quietly on the smooth cool cushion, just as I am told. He places my arms and legs just so. Drapes my right arm over my abdomen and puts a long-stemmed rose in my hand. “Don’t move, beautiful,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” That had to be over an hour ago. I try to get up, but I can’t move.
He must have given me something to make me stay like this. I remember feeling a sharp prick when he put the rose in my hand, but my face was turned away. Should I be afraid? But he’s a friend of a friend. She wouldn’t put me in danger. Maybe Dominick does this to all his models. He’s supposed to be a big name in photographers, that’s what she told me. Besides, he promised me a fortune for a few hours work, more than I’ve ever made modeling. Yes, so what if I skipped going to Uncle Ross’s funeral for this job! Uncle was old and fat, even if he did give me some great birthday presents. Mummy will have a hissy fit because I wasn’t there, but she’ll get over it. I try to think of pleasant things, like what I’ll do with the money from this job. There’s that darling dress at Chico’s … heels to match.
At last I hear footsteps. Dominick kneels to talk, his face all smiles. He has a knife in his hand and he strokes my throat. “This is a gift from your Uncle Ross, my dear. He said if you weren’t there for his funeral, I was to use it.”
It suddenly occurs to me that I can’t even scream.
Fiction © Copyright Marge Simon
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
More from Marge Simon:
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Spreading the Writer's Word 
A terrific story.