The Eyes

By P.S. Gifford


I looked intently into my wife’s greenest eyes and they seemed to be as little emeralds dancing in the moonlight. I had always treasured those eyes. They were what first thing that caught my attention of her. The very first moment I looked in them I new I was going to be lost forever, they seemingly Managed to hypnotize me into to losing my heart and indeed my own human will.

Somehow she seemed to share that same deep emotion. It was a brief and passionate courtship and we were married within months of that first meeting. The first months were wonderful and then gradually the magic began to slip away…Just like the last fleeting days of a hot summer. Then our life’s were simply ordinary, we started to ignore each other. Almost as if we were going our separate life’s within the confines of our small Manhattan apartment. But then thinks slipped further, they became sheer and total misery. Her nagging became incessant, her figure and personal hygiene began to slip and I was starting to hate her. However, despite this, those green eyes remained the same.

That is why I had decided to keep them after I had killed her this morning. I used arsenic a dull and unoriginal method of poisoning perhaps but nonetheless remarkably swift and affective.

Now her eyes shall remain in embalming fluid, on my bed side table for always.

Now I sit here alone and browse the personal adverts for my next one and only true love


I find this one interesting.

“Mature bubbly brunette, with green eyes you can get lost in, seeks soul mate.”

Now where is the phone?