Salama Alharmoodi is becoming one of our most active member in 2014, we’ve got a brand new post for our Red theme. We hope you enjoy it

“I kissed you at the apex of the maelstrom and asked if you would accompany me in a quick fall. But you made me realize my ticket wasn’t good for two
I rode alone”

– AFI, Spoken Word

Red. That was the color of her dress that night.Red. That was the color of a passion that burnt with fireRed. That was the color that she bled.

The music was awful in the Rouge Wave. He sat there quietly in the corner of the bar, where the lights were dim and the music sounded more distant. The bar was almost empty, with six people lying dead; strangers who came here have panicked and fled. Old customers are used to seeing such sights. After all they were members of his mafia. Ricci quietly picked up the broken bodies. Razer wondered how he could quickly clean up the bar, and by the time the police comes they always leave empty handed. A small woman approached him. She was slim, her brown eyes hid behind the bangs of her medium length hair. As fragile as she seemed, she was probably one of the most powerful members of the mafia.

She took a seat in front of him; her eyes were now fixed with his own. He could feel her reaching deep into his soul.

“Helen,” he muttered

“Hello,”she replied. She took the drink that was on the table.

“You’re going to drink that?”

Razor shook his head; she took a sip of the drink. Bitter she thought.

He must be feeling bitter.

“What is filling your heart with rage that caused you to kill six people? You know we don’t kill for fun – or for free

He sighed; he knew that she was in for his story. She approached them all, and could read their thoughts without saying a word. All it took was to know your story, and after that you’re just her toy.

“I won’t bother trying to avoid that” he took back his drink and took a few more gulps. He inhaled, filling his lungs with air that he hoped would calm the storm of emotions inside of him.


I loved her because she was broken in a beautiful way. She was the type of girl with an aura that would make you burn with passion in the most unbelievable ways. Her name was Autumn. However, she was the spring in my bitter winters. The first time I’ve met her she was sitting there waiting for her own death. A great number of her own family was killed in the massacre. She sat there quietly on her desk, humming to the beats of her own poem. I stood there behind her, puzzled by her calm reaction. Her hazel eyes turned towards me and a small smile slipped from her lips.

“Aren’t you here to bring me to death?”

This was the first time in my life where I hesitated to kill my prey, and in that moment of my hesitation I made a mistake. In the second I lost my train of thoughts, she was already holding a curved knife in my throat.

In battle, she was still no match for my skills. She was on her knees, panting unsure of what my next move would be. The look in her eyes turned from calm to alarmed. She wasn’t able to keep up with my speed.

“I’m going to give you two options,”I said.

“Either you die here with the rest of them, or come with me.”

I sometimes wished she didn’t.

She became my companion, the person that I could trust to finish a job and in return I have taught her to fight. She learned quickly and it took her no time to keep up with my speed.

In nights where there was nothing to do. We would gaze upon the stars burning in the distance on the roof of the place where I used to live. I often took a few glances at her before turning my gaze back at the stars.

“Why do you like them so much?” I’d ask

“There’s something mesmerizing about them. The way they burst in flames some place far away. They burst, they give us a flutter of their all before fading away in the sky. I like them because of that. I believe the universe was once a large star before exploding into little ones. I think they connect us.” She replied

“The way they connected Romeo and Juliet?”


“The way they connected us?”

She finally broke her gaze from the stars, her cheeks flushed into a shade of rose pink. It was obvious even in the darkness.

Her fingers slowly intertwined with my own. In that moment I realized that I fell in love with her.

“Red, red is the color of passion burning in fire.”

“Red” I repeated after her. I pressed her hand against my lips.

“Red is the color my heart will bleed.”

But the truth was, it was the color that she’d be bleeding.

Imagine a lover that would kill his love with his own hands. It never occurred to me that this would ever happen in what seems to be a happily ever after story. Out of rage that blinded me and was not her own fault, I killed her. She had tamed the monster that was living inside of me, but sometimes it surfaces back again.

I stood there, staring into something that my mind could not fully comprehend. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was blood; it was her blood that I spilled on the floor. I looked down to be shocked to see my sword piercing her body. It was a moment that lasted longer than forever, a moment where everything that I loved was taken away.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered.

Her body collapsed on the floor, more blood was flowing out of her lips as she coughed. I grabbed her, panicking, cursing myself for the terrible thing that I have done.

She died in my arms that night.

We exchanged no words, no tears, nothing.

Just her last breathe.

Helena was listening the whole time carefully, her face showed no sign of shock, or even disgust. The drink suddenly became four, Razer kept taking large gulps every time he proceeded with the story after long pauses. She could tell that he was trying to keep his emotions that day.

“Why did you kill her?” she asked.

Razer simply shook his head.

Her lips curled into a small smile, she got up and took his hand. Razer followed Helena as they walked towards the exit of the club.

“Hey, all of you. Lets go back home.” She ordered.

There were no objections; half of them were already drunk. The rest were probably drowning in their own thoughts and wanted something to break the silence.

“I like that,” she said.

Razer gave her a puzzled look.

“Red… the color of passion burning in fire”.

Author: Salama Alharmoodi


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