🇫🇷 Cette histoire n’est disponible qu’en anglais.
🇺🇸 This story is only available in English
When I first saw her, she was standing, alone, in the center of a field of white flowers.
Her blonde hair, flowing in the wind, barely touched the top of her shoulders. She was wearing a white negligee, which didn’t cover her slender arms and shoulders, and through which I could see the shape of her body, the line of her legs, the grace of her thin fingers, the curve of her breasts.
She was beautiful. Incredibly so. She seemed so pure. I was immediately smitten.
I did not understand what she was doing. If I had to speculate, I’d have said she was communicating with the wind. Or the Earth, perhaps. Maybe she was singing? She spread her arms, and slowly span on herself, looking at the forest, then at the night sky, in which the white moon, silent, magnificent and full, illuminated her.
The wind kept on blowing, but she didn’t seem cold. It raised and lowered the bottom of her semi-transparent camisole, and through it, as she slowly moved in a beautiful, mesmerizing dance, I could see the slightly red dot formed by her nipples. It filled me with love, and lust.
This feeling, the swelling in my pants, is the one that brought me back to reality.
I didn’t know exactly how much time had passed since I had started looking at her, and that frightened me. She was beautiful, and graceful, and my heart already ached at the thought of what I was going to do. But it was why I had come so far.
So I was going to do it. I just had to look through my scope again. I was ready.
But as I looked at her again, through the magnifying glass, I saw that she was now kneeling, slowly cupping a flower in her hand. It seemed like she loved that flower, so very dearly. She was extremely delicate, extremely careful, so as not to pluck it.
I started crying.
I did not want to do this. She could not have been the one I had looking for. There had to be a mistake. She was beautiful. She was pure. She was innocent
I should stop. I should not do this.
As I thought that, as I shivered, the red laser light emitted by my sniper rifle vacillated a tiny bit.
For the briefest moment, it went over her left eye.
She turned her face towards me. Slowly. Gracefully. Beautifully.
And she smiled at me.
She couldn’t possibly see me, not at that distance, but she still smiled at me, like an angel smiles and blesses with love all it sees, and I knew that she could see my soul. I knew she would forgive me for what I had been planning to do, and that she would love me and that we would forever be together, even if the world had ended, even if she had destroyed it all.
When she came back to the field, she kissed my lips softly, lovingly.
And the white flowers of the field turned into red roses, and her white negligee became crimson, as the blood that spilled out of my severed head landed onto them.
She kept kissing me. And I was happy. And she was beautiful.