Romance is Dead trilogy

By C L Raven

Don’t give your lover roses, give them nightmares.

Ten disturbing stories about the dangers of falling in love. Nothing says ‘I love you’ like giving your lover a heart for Valentine’s. Especially when it’s ripped from their body before they’ve drawn their last breath.

“I’d made a terrible mistake. I should have killed him in the shower.”

Gone are the expensive chocolates in fancy packaging, the wilting roses from the petrol station forecourt and the heart-print boxer shorts. Valentine’s is about to get bloody. And some unfortunate lovers will learn the true meaning of ‘til death us do part.’

Real love is worth killing for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C L Raven
• Release date: Feb 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311977052

C L Raven

C L Raven are identical twins and mistresses of the macabre from Cardiff. They’re horror writers, as ‘bringers of nightmares’ isn’t a recognised job title. They spend their time looking after their animal army and drinking more Red Bull than the recommended government guidelines. They write short stories, novels, and articles for Haunted Magazine and have been published in various anthologies and horror magazines. They’ve been longlisted in the Exeter Novel Prize twice, the Flash 500 Novel competition twice, and the Bath Novel Award. Soul Asylum was shortlisted in the 2012 National Self-Publishing Awards and Deadly Reflections was highly recommended in the 2014 awards. Several short stories have also been long and shortlisted in various competitions. They recently won third prize in the British Fantasy Society Award. In 2015, they were published in the Mammoth Book of Jack the Ripper, which makes their fascination with him seem less creepy. Along with their friend Neen, they prowl the country hunting for ghosts for their YouTube show, Calamityville Horror and can also be found urb exing in places they shouldn’t be. They also unleash their dark sides playing D&D/RPGs and gracefully fall off poles as they learn PoleFit.

Book preview

Romance Is Dead

C L Raven

Published by C L Raven

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2015 C L Raven

Cover by Mark Stone

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold

or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person,

please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to

Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All characters in this book are completely fictitious. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.

Table of contents

Kiss of Death

Til Death us do Part

The Black Kiss

My Bloody Valentine

Still Life

Kill The Bride

My Miserable Romance

Final Curtain

Love Craft

Heart-Shaped Box

About the Author

Kiss of Death

If I'd known when I'd got into bed with Dante it would be our last time, I might've worn the French maid basque he loves. But the brutal end to our relationship was a surprise to us both. See, the best part about Dante, was his Midas touch. If I could put his hands on a guy who treated me like his girlfriend and not an unpaid hooker, I'd have the perfect boyfriend.

That was my lightbulb moment.

***

His long, artistic fingers glided down my back, skimming my sides. He smiled as they danced over my stomach. He kissed me, his tongue stroking mine. His kisses made dragonflies hum inside me, but it was his hands that made me come alive. He nibbled my neck and I shivered, my hands exploring his torso. It was slender but his muscles weren't defined. Apathy made him allergic to pumping iron.

He drew circles on the inside of my thigh, making me squirm. His fingers edged higher, the anticipation thrilling me until it became unbearable. His fingers traced down my throat then my body, every tiny nerve ending on fire. We moaned as we climaxed, then held each other until our hearts slowed. I put my purple satin and black lace lingerie on while he lay back, breathing hard.

That was amazing, he said. I'll go now.

Thought we were going to the crime museum today.

Sorry babe, I haven't got time. My exhibition's next month, I need to finish the sculpture.

It wasn't just me he brought to life with his hands.

You wouldn't come away with me last month because you needed to finish it, but it's still not done?

I got distracted.

You mean you went out and got so pissed you couldn't get out of bed.

Dante wasn't the best boyfriend. In fact, he was a terrible boyfriend. Sometimes I wouldn't hear from him for days, other times he'd phone me daily and we'd talk for hours. He'd stay over when he wanted, but if I invited him, he'd fob me off with how tired he was or how work was getting him down. Or he'd brush me off to go out with his mates then spend the weekend hungover and moaning to me how shitty he felt. He'd never invited me. I wasn't sure whether it was a jealousy thing or if he was ashamed of me. Maybe he was worried his mates would think I was out of his league.

But when he touched me, I didn't care.

I'll see you…I don't know. When I'm free.

If you just want me for sex, you can put a grand on the dressing table when you leave.

He laughed. Babe, if I had a grand, I'd go to Amsterdam with the boys.

I grabbed the dagger off the wall and plunged it into his heart. His eyes widened with disbelief and pain.

Don't act like you never saw it coming.

I stabbed him again. Just so he knew how it felt to be knifed in the heart.

Dante's pale, scarlet streaked body lay tangled in the sheets like a twisted artist's macabre masterpiece. His mouth, which had gasped in erotic ecstasy, was fixed in a silent scream. His heart, which moments ago raced with the intensity of our passion, was as still as his sculptures.

I'd made a horrible mistake.

I should've killed him in the shower.

Then I wouldn't have to clean up. I was furious the blood had spattered my lingerie. It was new and hand wash only. A dreadful thought occurred – the website I'd bought the dagger from made me tick the box stating it was for decorative purposes only. I'd breached their terms and conditions.

I put on my scrubs, went downstairs and fetched everything I needed. Raising the axe, I brought it down on his wrist. It took a few chops to sever his amazing hands.

I always did put more effort into the relationship than you. I'll find someone who deserves me. Who treats me like a queen, not a blow up doll. Sorry your sculpture won't get finished. To be honest, your work wasn't as great as you thought. And clowns have better dress sense than you.

That felt fantastic. I should suggest it to therapists. It's far easier telling someone how they ruined the relationship when they're not alive to guilt trip you with their crocodile tears.

I put his magic hands in tubs of ice and carried them to the freezer before cleaning up. I binned my bedding, fetched his wallet from his jeans and helped myself to his cash.

You can buy me new bedding. Make up for everything you never bought me. I'll take back the money you owe me. Oh and I'm keeping your gecko.

I wasn't sure what to do with Dante's body. Like I said, this was a lightbulb moment. You have to act before the light goes out. Now I was left with a dead body and a pair of talented hands in my freezer.

The day hadn't started as I'd expected.

I couldn't carry him. He was also naked. I don't know why, but that made the whole thing worse. I bit my lip. Unfortunately, body disposal hadn't been part of my funeral director training. If I wasn't so forensically aware, I'd turn him into a statue. I'd even thought up the title: 'Love Kills'. I could hijack his exhibition and create a show around my quest for the perfect lover. It would be dark, sexy and off-beat. It wasn't like he needed the show anymore. I didn't need to visit the crime museum after all. My bedroom resembled one, but without the entry fee.

Nobody would notice if Dante was missing for a few days. They'd think he was in his 'ignoring people and hiding in his cave' phase. My neighbours were used to seeing his car here for a few days then not seeing it for weeks. Who'd have thought his most irritating character flaws – inconsistency and unreliability – would become my greatest defence?

I headed out to my garden. Dante kept promising he'd create a designer garden with some of his sculptures. He was a great planner. Just terrible at action. I was an action girl. I'd bury him at the bottom and so nobody noticed the mound of earth, I'd create a feature garden around it. With aromatic flowers to conceal the stench of his rotting body. What an incredible day. When I woke this morning, all I had planned was the crime museum. Within an hour, I'd killed my crappy boyfriend and was discovering a love for landscape gardening. My star sign hadn't predicted this.

I fetched a spade from the collapsing shed and started digging. It was harder than I thought.

Three hours later, I rolled Dante onto plastic sheeting, wrapped him tightly then dragged him off the bed. Manoeuvring him to the stairs was a slow process. Once I reached the top, I shoved him down. Even dead he was a lazy, useless sod, expecting me to do everything. I took satisfaction in the crack his head made when it hit the wall as he tumbled ungracefully down. I heaved him onto the trolley he used for moving sculptures (it was in his boot) and wheeled him outside. I tipped him into the hole then began covering him with earth. I could see his eyes through the plastic, staring like he couldn't believe I'd killed him. I couldn't believe I hadn't killed him sooner.

Doing some gardening? a neighbour called over the fence.

Shit! I checked the hole. He was fully covered.

Dante said he'd build me a statue, so I'm digging a foundation.

Now I had to buy a freakin' statue. Bloody Dante. He could pay for that too. After all, he'd promised. This was one promise I'd make sure he didn't break.

***

A week later, a statue of King Midas adorned Dante's grave. I could've stolen the one Dante made, but Dante's Midas had his face. I didn't want that pricking my conscience whenever I wanted to enjoy my garden. Dante's credit card bought me a very expensive statue instead. And new lingerie.

I entered the funeral directors', standing aside as a body was wheeled in.

Hey Jaimie. Fancy proving how good you are with a proper stiff? Vinny, an attendant winked.

Oh great. The winner of Britain's Most Atrocious Pond Scum award. Three years running. But he had nice arms, with cool tattoos that would look great on my perfect lover.

Ok.

You serious?

Meet me after work.

He rushed out, whooping. I changed into scrubs and gloves then started work on the body. It was a stab victim.

Vinny pester you again? My assistant, Karen asked, applying makeup to the corpse.

I must emit a scent that only attracts trolls and those from apathy conventions.

Try speed dating. Even if you don't hook up with someone, it's a good night.

With plenty of potential 'donors'. I could window shop in safety, earmarking those with nice attributes. The way people bought clothes from a catalogue.

During lunch, I slipped formaldehyde into my bag. Nobody likes rotten meat stinking out their freezer.

After my shift, Vinny was waiting by my car like the world's worst unwanted gift. I would've preferred Freddy Krueger. Good thing tonight Vinny came with a receipt.

Do you want a drink? Something to eat? He smiled.

Let's dispense with the formalities and go to mine.

He hopped into the passenger seat and groped me the whole way home. I was looking forwards to watching the life drain from his slimy body.

Whose car's that? He pointed to Dante's old Cortina estate, which was still in my drive.

My ex's. He gave it to me to say sorry for all the times he'd let me down.

Vinny grabbed my arse. I slapped his hand. He moved in for a kiss, so I pushed him away. I'd have to drink bleach to eradicate the memory of his tongue thrashing in my mouth like a demented eel.

Let's skip the foreplay. Go upstairs. I'll be up in a minute.

He tripped hurrying upstairs. I fetched a knife from my kitchen. By the time I got upstairs, he was already naked on my bed. No horror movie monster prepared me for that sight. I'd have to burn my bedding. Luckily Dante's card had bought replacements.

I draped a towel over Frankie the gecko's tank, opened my bedside cabinet and removed handcuffs. Wanna play?

His leery grin confirmed it. I snapped the cuffs onto his wrists then shackled him to the bedpost.

You gonna show me what you wear under your scrubs?

I was glad his hands were chained. No amount of scrubbing would remove his greasy fingerprints from my body. I fixed a ball gag to him.

I have a surprise. I let him see the knife. His eyes widened. I got you here under false pretences. I don't want you. Just your arms.

I plunged the knife into his chest then eased it out so blood spatter wouldn't ruin my walls, before stabbing him several times. More than necessary, but it felt good. Like squeezing a blister.

I uncuffed him, secured him in the plastic sheeting on my bed and pulled him onto Dante's trolley.

I manhandled Vinny into the shower and fetched my tools. I cut away the flesh at the shoulder and removed his arms from the sockets. I sawed off his hands then injected his arms with formaldehyde before putting them in my new chest freezer. I was disappointed at being so clichéd, but you have to go with what works. If chest freezers were good enough for serial killers and Hollywood bad guys, they were good enough for pioneers like me.

I enjoyed chopping Vinny into bitesize chunks. It gave me a great upper body and cardiovascular workout. I was tempted to strip Vinny to a skeleton and position him on the ground like a Halloween prop, but it wouldn't look as effective without the arms.

I dug a grave in the corner by the fence. Digging was great for my arms and legs. If I kept this up, I could cancel my gym membership. I was getting fit, eliminating annoyances from my life and transforming my garden at the same time. Life coaches would admire my 'can do' attitude.

I returned upstairs, packed Vinny into the plastic sheeting and dragged him downstairs. I dumped him into the hole then covered him up and fetched the bags of purple slate I'd bought from the garden centre. I positioned rocks