Alice is practically everywhere; a sex shop in Soho, a Camden brasserie. Easily the most hypnotizing woman I’ve ever seen. She invites me to her Docklands apartment. Haven’t lost my charms.
Then it all makes sense. A bald man opens her front door, holding a pistol to my smiling head.
I recall the glaze in her eyes afterwards, but her name eludes me. Tired, I hadn’t fucked her; just killed her. Death lacking intimacy hadn’t excited me at all. Right then I realised that she’d killed me instead. I was a beast and a savage; the ‘man’ inside was dead.
Dorotheé teaches French on the veranda.
“Je m’appelle Andrew. Vous avez les belles yeux.”
She laughs at me. When she eventually agrees to date, we frequent the best restaurants de Lyon. She falls for me, of course.
Devoted, pretty eyes look remarkable on a severed head.
Nobody laughs at me.
Such skin. I look and want to touch. Ana brings cocktails to my room. I vow not to kill Ana.
A bald man acts suspiciously. Paranoia says to quit Sicily if I’m to avoid prison. But Ana, saintly Ana.
Driving through Italy is difficult with a body in the trunk.
She wrote her number on the cubicle. I took her to Psycho. We clicked.
Met my folks. Verdict: Different. We eloped.
Loved Florence but Rome uninspiring. Settled in Sicily. Without friends she got bored. She would’ve killed me if I’d not got there first.
I knew we were kindred spirits.
They called him ‘Albatross’ because he brought bad luck. “You’re a stately sea-bird,” they lied. He didn’t know any better. One weekend, traveling to a match, the team bus crashed into a ravine. Albatross was the only survivor. As they pulled him from the wreckage, nobody noticed his chilling smile.
He awoke, relieved to realise it was just a dream. Blood, knife and tears in horrific clarity. He got up cautiously, still reeling from the experience. In the dream, the man had smashed through the kitchen window and escaped. But no, his wife’s lover’s head remained safely in the freezer.
“Please kill me,” he pleads. She can’t look at him. Slowly, she retreats. Her final words are: “You’ll never walk out on me again.”
The police find him. He has lost seven pints of blood and it has taken two days for him to die.
They never find his legs.
A curse befell the town. Children started disappearing. The town panicked. Was the haggard woman on the hill a witch? The mayor led the townsfolk to her shack and hammered the door down. She was already dead. Bludgeoned by the small fists of a hundred children who were never found.