Mar
The night darkness followed Charlotte through the streets of London; she was just rushing home from the market in the gloomy foggy weather for her anniversary with her boyfriend. She was just so thrilled to have this special night with the love of her life, but she was running late from buying the gifts at the most fancy shops on the streets of London. Charlotte worked two jobs, and her manager for her second job made her work extra hours today.
The rain was so vigorous, as if someone had poured the entire ocean into the streets of London. The rain was so loud that it flooded out every thought in her head. She had reached the corner of the block, turning and greeting the entrance to her rather old apartment building. She ran up the stairs with a distressed feeling that she could feel seep into her heart. Charlotte had been planning for many weeks now up to this point to make it truly memorable. She inserted the keys into the door in such a rush, almost falling into her apartment upon unlocking it. She ran in and locked the door behind her, catching her breath. “Oh dear, I’m late to our anniversary dinner, aren’t I?” she gasped for air as she greeted the digital clock on the dresser in front of her, which read 20:27. She was over an hour late, which confirmed her assumption.
She turned on the dim lights, making the atmosphere feel rather unsettling due to the condition of the lightbulbs in the kitchen. The lights matched the dull and shabby atmosphere left behind by these neglected walls. Dust covered every inch of the breaking walls and old furniture. The apartment building was passed down for many generations of Charlotte's family, almost like a family heirloom, making this building stand at over two hundred years old.
She began to catch her breath as she put aside her gift for this special day on a stool. “Elliott! It’s our anniversary, aren’t you excited?” she said as she began to take off her dripping wet coat. Elliott sat rather still at the creaky, old wooden table, staring blankly without responding. The table was old, and so was just about everything in this building, down to the wooden floors.
Silence echoed through the cramped, small apartment. It was so silent, that only the rain, which began to calm down, was heard faintly in the background. Outside the same window, the streets of London were lit up dimly in the night, lighting up the dark sky with a beautiful tint, almost as if the daylight sun never ceased. It was the most beautiful night for their anniversary, which was rare for London weather in late November.
Charlotte picked up the white medium-sized bag, with a big red eye-catching ribbon, from the stool by the door after she put away her coat. She walked over to the dirty, aged wooden table, placing the bag and taking out the contents inside it carefully.
Charlotte had brought a bouquet of the brightest, liveliest bunch of crimson red roses she could find. The aroma emitting from them was mesmerizing, matching the beauty of its color; it was a scent that could send you back in time like a time machine, with the pure aroma. To match this short-lived beauty she bought, she had brought alongside a small elegant box, which contained matching rings for the both of them. The rings shined bright, with a matching crimson stone in the center. The rings were of high quality, polished precisely and were perfectly fitted to their fingers. Even from a far, you could notice the beauty and riches concealed within such a small item, which was truly mesmerizing.
Charlotte began to prepare the table, starting off with a white cloth with an elegant opaque pattern, two tall and slender wine glasses, and a big vase for the bouquet. These items were all pretty old, as they had been around for a few generations as well. She began with putting the flowers into the vase, before deciding to break the elongated silence, “Today was truly aggravating - they had assigned us extra hours without even telling me. I was afraid the shops would close before I could buy you these rings.” Her agitated voice echoed through the kitchen as she finished up sorting the bouquet of flowers on the kitchen counter. She brought out some new Haut-Brion wine from the bag and poured it halfway into both of the glasses slowly. She set aside the bottle of wine and sat next to Elliott, gazing at the graceful, lively roses sitting in the lavish glass vase.
He kept quiet, staring blankly without saying a word, sitting and not having moved much. His eyes seemed clouded with thought, yet his mind seemed to run not even a single thought. Charlotte took off her leather gloves, and put them aside on the table, before slowly taking his hand and holding it up slightly. She stretched out to grab the box of rings and slid one onto his dry finger. She had done the same to her hand, catching a glance at the ring before locking his hand with hers tightly.
“I’m quite happy to spend this time with you.” She smiled softly as she looked at him from the corner of her eyes. She turned in her chair to face towards Elliott, looking at him with a loving gaze. A gaze that encompassed compassion, and tenderness.
“I'm really glad that we were able to find a mutual understanding after what happened with Ruby.” Her smile and her eyes kept shining, and she gently took him by his chin and moved his face towards her. Their eyes met, and she found herself lost in his cloudy eyes. In the background, only a faint melody of slow dripping sounds echoed through the kitchen, before Charlotte decided to whisper, “Happy anniversary, Elliott.”
She felt the coldness and the harshness left from his decaying skin rush under her own skin. His skin was pale, and his body had turned blue, and an unbearable stench came from the body. She felt the coldness rush through her body, as she felt goosebumps form all over her. She could feel the atmosphere fill up with gloom and a deathly feel, and let the unbearable stench fill up the room. Charlotte slowly pulled herself to meet Elliott's cold blue lips, as the room began to smell of a similar scent, the smell of fresh blood. In the corner of her eyes, she could see the water in the glass vase had turned faintly red as a familiar crimson color begun dripping down Elliott’s face, and soon to the floor. The bright blood dripped down Elliott's pale clothes that matched the color of his skin, stained with a similar shade of a red that drizzled in the vase. She closed her eyes, listening to the melody of the rain that played in her ears before pulling away. She opened her eyes narrowly, looking directly at him and whispered: “Isn’t this the most perfect dinner you could’ve asked for?”
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