The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Wicked Wax
by Kim Richards 

 Held aloft by a woman’s soft, supple hands, a candle of white hovers over an envelope. It is lit with a yellowed flame burning bright. The heat melts the candle’s body, sending droplets of wax down to settle in the center of the envelope. At the same time it fills the dark room with the heady scent of Bourbon Roses.

In a quick movement, another hand swiftly presses a seal over the little pool of melted wax and holds it still a few moments, allowing it to cool. Once released, an imprint of a rose with a small heart in its center remains.

The woman sighs softly and settles the candle into its silver holder. She hands the invitation over to her servant for delivery. Then she turns her attention to a glass of Pino Noir. Its burgundy liquid glitters in the candlelight.

* * * *

Midnight comes and goes unnoticed by the lovers. They shuttered out the moonlight, preferring the soft glow of white candles.

The man lies back upon white silken sheets among deep red rose petals. Flickering flames at the bedside bathe his nakedness in soft light and shines in his eyes as he turns his head to admire his lover.

She binds his wrists with wide satin ribbon and secures them to the headboard posts with tight knots.

His lips part in a smile and he says, “I didn’t expect this…not after…”

“Shhh,” she interrupts and places her fingertips on his lips. Then she picks up one of the candlesticks in her left hand and holds it above his chest.

As if he were this morning’s envelope, the wax drops onto his skin. He moans with pleasure.

“Blindfold me,” he demands.

She reaches out toward the bedside table. “No. I want you to see this coming.”

With her left hand, she pours hot wax across his nose and cheeks. With her right, she plunges a dagger into his chest. She laughs at his useless thrashing and vile cursing. A second wound opens a floodgate of blood with a second dagger against his throat.

She smiles, kisses his lips, and throws the lit candle upon the sheets. As the flames catch the bed linens, she flees.

* * * *

Silver candelabras with bone white candles and Bourbon roses surround a closed coffin inside the funeral parlor. In the outer guestway, she pretends to grieve with manufactured tears and smeared eyeliner. Seeing the other woman at the coffin side, she rises and takes deliberate steps to stand beside her.

She leans in and whispers, “He’s all yours now.”

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Fiction © Copyright Kim Richards
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com