Assignment 1

I sat in candlelight, pen in hand, trying to recall the last moments of her passing. Dredging up past emotions and allow them to flow from my hand. A PhD would tell me this was therapeutic. I however was going through this ritual for another reason.
Seated in her bedroom chamber, I surveyed the area allowing my eyes to rest on the place I had found her the night she passed away. I recollected the events that led to this moment, without my dearly departed love.

There on the master bed she laid, eyes closed as if she was enjoying the solace peace that only came with the grave. The purple sheets cascaded from the bed to the floor. She was always a heavy sleeper. Stepping lightly along the wooden paneled floor, I was careful not to cause any loose boards to sound my approach; Lord knows I wouldn't want to disturb my beautiful newly-wed wife from her serene rest.
Rounding her blue nightstand on which perched a three pointed candlestick in the shape of Christ's last moments, I found myself at the side of her bed. Smiling, I looked down at the peaceful look on her face. After the meal we had for dinner, I knew she would be found here sleeping it off. I ran my hand through her hair, it was always so smooth. I allowed my hand to run down the side of her cheek. The warmth of her face tantalized my hand as it rounded her chin. Her breath was shallow, and it combined with my hands reaching the most beautiful part of her body, filled me with excitement.
Even with the sudden rush of emotion I was feeling, I didn't change my pace. I grasped firmly around her neck and, as my grip tightened, I saw her eyes snap open to meet me. Her hands quickly clasped my wrist, but it was to no avail. I saw in her eyes the reflection of myself and the skillfully painted ceiling above me. It was of Dante's Inferno, and amazingly the expression on the men and women's faces were reminiscent of the terror on my love's face.
Unfortunately for her, the hour was growing late and I was growing weary of her constant battle with me. I could see the stream of light from her bedroom window was falling with the sun's departure, and the gurgling sound coming from her throat was sure to bring rise to our servants. Reaching my other hand to her nightstand, I lifted the candlestick that was to light her room this night. Lifting it over my head I brought it down upon her skull. The crimson splatter from the blow misted the air around my face. It colored the brown walls and gave them an almost surreal look. I may even leave the coloring there, I think I rather enjoy the new look. After about three blows I was sure she was gone from our world. Tucking her in I sat down beside her to rest, after all I had much to accomplish in the morning.

Ah this would be a masterpiece of literature. How better to write a story in which I kill off one of my characters than to experience it first hand? Giving it a hard tug, I removed the sheets from under her. Folding them neatly, I made sure not to smear the ink. The publisher did say to give him my sheets. Ironically, I think I captured the life of my character in them quite nicely. Leaning over I gave my love a kiss before exiting the room. Don't worry my dear when this is published you will have eternal life.