![Fog lingering around Dover Western (Cruise) Docks. [Image has been adjusted so it can be seen properly]](https://sundayphotofictioner.files.wordpress.com/2014/03/52-03-march-23rd-2014.jpg?w=584&h=390)
Photo by Al Forbes, who runs the Sunday Photo Fiction blog. Check out the other submissions and instructions for entering your own story here.
How many men have you swallowed up? How many times have you pushed yourself inside their lungs and separated them from the oxygen they so desperately need?
You consumed the body I threw to you last night, when you were considerably less placid than you are now. A single image flickers on my inner eye: Her dress billowing in the wind, legs flailing, wild auburn hair concealing the face I thought I loved. You were the one who dragged her down, your tumultuous surface a match to my own rage. I roared with the wind, damning her to your cold bed, where her beauty could rot and she’d have no choice but to be faithful.
I stand on the deck, calmly facing the fog that covers you like a blanket. I can’t see exactly what’s ahead, but I’m not concerned. After all, it wasn’t me that killed her. It was you.
To Be A Magician 
Nice use and denial. He didn’t suck the life from her so it wasn’t him who killed her. Great job 🙂
Great take on the picture.
DJ
Nice piece! I read it as he was seething and nearly spitting as he spoke the words.
And then her ghost came out of the fog and took him to an icy grave, right? That would be justice, but I feel that’s not the way it goes. Sad.
Well-written story. Good description. Looks like he’s in denial. I wonder if the guilt will hit him with full force later. This could be a good beginning for a longer story.