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The Ocean is Deep

The ocean is vast and unpredictable, but always keeps its secrets.

That’s what she told herself as she crept into her husband’s house on a cliff by the sea. The floorboards creaked as she went, causing her to pause or else be detected. On the walk were posters from his different shenanigans, pictures of women he had affairs with. He was staying here on a “business trip”, at least that’s what he told her. On the counter was his wedding ring. His vows still echoed through her ears as she looked at it in distain. There were other things as well: a box of birth control, a red handbag, high heals, condoms…

He had a partner last night.

She was careful not to touch anything. As she continued through the house she caught her reflection in a mirror: a short brown wig, blue contact lenses, gloves, a black dress (her husband’s old favorite), and a purse with all the essentials. She carefully moved, silent as a light breeze, up to the bedroom. The door was wide open, revealing her husband and his lover, a blond women she recognized from the movie he was working on in Hollywood, supposedly his lover in the movie as well. She slid into the room and carefully drew out her knife, a beautiful killer of iridescent opal. The man groaned slightly, but he didn’t wake. The bed sheets were already a disgusting mess, so she had no thought of ruining it further.

She sliced the knife in one quick fluid motion, and her husband was dead without a sound.

She moved over to the other side. The woman rolled over, and her blond had tumbled onto the pillow. She decided to make this death more fun. Opening her purse, she took out her lipstick. It was a silver tube of blood red lipstick, labeled “moonless nightmares”. Reaching over to her late husband, she took his blood and mixed it with the lipstick. She then leaned down over the blond woman, and planted a kiss on the actress’s lips. The woman awoke with a start, and pulled away from the kiss.

The poison doesn’t waste time.

She wiped the rest of the blood on the hem of her dress, then worked carefully. Taking out the knife again, she stabbed her husband in the chest and drew out his heart. She placed it in a box soaked in the blood of his past lovers. She left a note on top of the box that read ‘maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats’, from that Mirand Lamberts song. With the box was laid the hairs of other women, other lovers from the days before she knew how to fight back. She dragged the two bodies out to the edge of the cliff along with the birth control, wedding ring, and other things she found on the counter.

One by one the items were tossed into the depths below.

With these items she tossed her gloves, wig, contacts, wedding ring, and purse. She slipped out of her heals and black dress, both splattered with blood, and tossed them into the water beneath. She shook out her long black locks, and blinked away the fake tears. She put on a white dress now, with matching white heals. The only thing left was her knife, which she hid in a sheath on her thigh. She got in her car, changed her alias, and drove away, never to be heard from again.

The authorities were baffled. They had never seen such a perfect crime. Even with the hairs left at the scene, were unable to positively identify the killer. They pushed the case into the back of the archives. Everyone thought that after her husband’s murder that the wife would have been killed with them. They never found the bodies.

After all, the ocean is vast and unpredictable, but it always keeps its secrets.



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