Because I had... fun... writing this and creeped myself out a little, too, I think I'll start posting my nano preparation exersizes in my journal. Um... Enjoy?


I put the tulips under all the pillows, and then I set fire to the house. They were red tulips, meant to declare my love for her. I’d read about that, somewhere. I hoped she would appreciate the gesture. The flames were for passion, of course. Do you think the symbolism was too obscure? I hope not. She’s a clever woman, though. I know she’ll understand.

They all arrived on the scene together—the fire trucks, ambulances, police cars. I liked the lights. They shone off her face beautifully as she watched from her own yard. Her mouth was opened—a little “O” of surprise. I think she cried. I was glad to have made her so happy. She had never liked the DeLanceys. They used to yell at her about her cats, and how they would chase the birds that gathered at the birdbath on their yard. So my romantic gesture was practical, as well as lovely.

She started taking up a lot of bad habits after that night. I didn’t like it. She started locking her doors at night and drawing the shades closed. I couldn’t look in on her anymore. Perhaps someone told her to look after herself. That Michael. I never liked him much. He took up too much of her time, and she stayed some nights with him. I didn’t approve—it was improper for a lady. I put petunias—for anger—on his bedside table the night I set fire to his apartment. They withered away in the flames like they weren’t there, and my gesture was unnoticed. But I knew. And so did Michael. I told him before I set fire to the bed I’d tied him to.

I started seeing her after Michael’s accident. Every time I gave her flowers, I made sure there were blue violets in the bouquet—for watchfulness and fidelity. I wanted her to know that I had always and would always be there for her. We were happy, for a time. I think we were. But I made a mistake. I had thought she would understand, but she didn’t. I told her what I had done for her with Michael and the DeLanceys, and she became cold toward me. She threatened to call the police, and to have me locked up. I didn’t like that.

It took me a while, and I was very sorry afterwards, but I finally convinced her that I was right, and that I had only been looking out for her, proving how much I love her. I thought she understood. She told me she did, but the thing she did to the brakes on the Honda made me angry. I put purple hyacinth—for apology—next to her in our bed when I set the fire.

The flames were so pretty.

I visit her now, with tea roses. The tea roses tell her that I’ll always remember. I put them on her grave every Sunday. It was her favorite day of the week.
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