Unchopped Prose

I had concept for a story where a young man doomed a young women by his kiss. There was going be some sort of development around the idea that every one this young man kissed would be doomed. It was going to be called "Doomed on the Doorstep."

This idea took on a slightly different form while I was watching a James Bond film. The concept sort of became a James Bond themed piece and that is what ended shooting out of my brain last night as I quickly wrote it down. I am not saying it is amazing but I like the concept. So with out further hesitation I present:
(I have to apologize for the harsh language, the word just seemed to fit the situation, not that that justifies it)

Doomed on a Doorstep

Damn it is not usually the first word to pass through a person’s thoughts after engaging in a kiss. Damn may be a little more common, depending of course on ones situation and vernacular. But damnit is rarely the result of a kiss and generally kisses accompanied by damnit’s should not have happened..

And so it was, as her perfect lips parted with his and she smiled lightly before scurrying up the stairs. There would be no chase, no lust, he was content to bask in the glow of this moment.

But damnit, he loved her, in ways that those words had never meant, and his expression of that love had sealed it. She was doomed on that doorstep. The world was littered with gravestones of women who died with his kiss still warm on their lips.

And it was ironic that the one kiss that meant something would have the same effect as those that meant nothing. He was trapped in a dangerous cycle of lovely lust and even this true love could not stop the spiral. Why could he not control it? Why not leave her alone? Had he not come this evening there would have been no kiss, no mark...only silent yearning.
Damnit!

He would willingly stand guard over her til dawn, if it would do any good. But they would get her, they always did. And he always lived, to mourn. Of course this one would not pass easily.

He hurried up the stais and caught her wrist. She turned in a flurry amber hair and crystal teeth. One more firm kiss was all he needed before whispering “Goodbye.” She looked puzzled but mistaking it for “Good night,” she repeated and turned up the stairs. As their fingers lingered then parted, he uttered that three-word phrase that means more than any other.

And then he left. He need to find another one quickly, where there would be only lust, no love. And perhaps that women he doomed on that doorstep, though she could never be his, would live.

Possible Ending:

But as he walked away he heard a dismal gun shot and turned. The cocking of his pistol drowned out a pronounced, “DAMNIT!”


I hope you enjoyed it.