Samantha was her name - Home wrecking Bimbo
I could only stare at him. The honesty in his eyes was unbearable. His lips
kept moving on and on but I could only focus on one thing. "I'm just not
attracted to you anymore. I'm sorry." Earlier this morning the words nearly
knocked me down. Was there something wrong with me? No. I just wasnt the
twenty one year old blonde wearing the skin tight mini dress at the Christmas
Eve Party two months ago.
Two months. Thats all it took. Two months and twenty seven years didnt
mean anything anymore.
Twenty seven years of devotion and unwavering love and he tells me that he
isnt attracted to me anymore?So maybe I've gained a few extra pounds in
some places that werent there when we were in college, but that's what
happens after three children and fourteen pets. So I might wear sweat pants
more often than I used too, but I still have some style in these old limbs."Her
name is Samantha and it has nothing to do with her!" Samantha. I felt much
better when she was just "that marriage wrecking bimbo." Now she has a
name. Samantha. The woman of my husbands fantasies.
Maybe its just a midlife crisis? These things happen all the time right? He's
feeling anxious on the impending doom of growing grey and eventually
dying, so he thinks if he attaches himself to someone so young she's
practically still in diapers, it will give him a few more decades to wallow in
self pity. Completely normal so I've heard. He'll get tired of her in a few
months and he'll be back at home with me, showering me with the affection I
received during our honeymoon, everything will be normal. What no one
talks about is how things get back to normal. How do you just forgive the
man that ripped you heart out and hung it out on display for the entire world
to see, and pretend that things never changed?
"You can keep the house, I'll stay at her apartment."
Apartment? He would rather live in a over crowded apartment than in a two
story colonial style masterpiece that we dedicated eleven years to perfecting.
So many memories still live in those walls. Our oldest daughter held her
wedding there, and we still keep our first grandson everyother weekend. Now
it will be a solo event, I suppose. Chasing a four year old around the yard is
going to be a bit more tricky now that the other half of the lineup will be
missing.
Levianthe - The Journal
In a darkened room lay awoman so quiet you wouldnt think her to hold any
life at all. She didnt breath, and never once did she stir, and yet she never
grew older and she never decayed. She didnt eat nor drink, and still her body
remained fully sustained in all its glory. There were cameras all around the
room pointed in her direction as if someone where keeping a rather careful
eye on the woman. Perhaps a science experiment of some kind? Nevertheless
; she was the most beautiful woman that could have ever been created. Her
waist length hair was whiter than snow and held just enough curl to frame
her delivate face and give her a childlike innocence. Her skin, nearly as pale
as her hair, was perfect in complexion and created the most wonderful
contrast with her naturally red lips. Her eyes, though closed, seemed kind
and sincere. Her body was nude for all to witness, slender built with
amazingly round breasts and curvy hips. She was something to behold. Not
an imperfection could be found. It was as if the gods themselves should weep
at her beauty. SLowly her eyes, thick with centuries of sleep, opened to reveal
white pupiless eyes. They stare. They always stare. Her lips moved to form the
words. "The war will begin. Silence marks the death." Over and over she
whispers these words, her voice starting out quiet but soon becomes a
scream. The war will begin. Silence marks the death. The war will begin.
Silence marks the death. So very dangerous she seemed. The world shook
from her words.
