Prompt Day #190: Do something devilish with a character who is a glass blower.
The colors she picked were brilliant. He watched them swirl together blues and greens becoming teal. With every breath an ocean spread out at the end of the pipe. He saw her eyes wide with anticipation and awe. She smiled.
“This is really fun.” She kissed him on the cheek “Do you bring all the girls here?”
“Uh huh” he smirked and blew another breath into the molten glass. “You wanna try it?” He rolled the pipe across, holding it for her. Her furrowed brow relaxed. He’d been kidding of course about bringing all the girls here. She saw the twinkle of humor in his eyes or perhaps it was the reflection from the fire. She bent down to the pipe. He let her in to the space between his arms. Holding the pipe still just long enough for her to wrap her lips around it, he leaned his head into her shoulder and whispered.
“Slowly exhale into the pipe, let it roll around between your lips.” She followed. He picked her hands up in his and wrapped them around the pipe. “Now, you roll it. You control it. This is your creation.” He let go, leaned back and watched her trying to mimic his movements. If he let her go on much longer, she’d ruin it. He put his lips back to her ear. “Breathe life into your art, Bella, close your eyes and breathe your soul into it.”
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes as he commanded. He could feel her heart pounding through her back. He knew if he reached down right now and grabbed her between the legs, she’d be as hot as the fire melting the glass at the end of the pipe. But that’s not what he wanted from her.
Now blow deeply and slowly” he said. She did. Careful not to knock the pipe from her lips, he grabbed her hair and slit her throat. She jerked. He anticipated the movement and held her right where she was until there were no more breaths.
He finished the glass bottle, cooled it, and corked it. He put her body into the furnace.
The sea green hollow sphere reminded him of her eyes, so wide and fascinated. The color was even more full of life now that it contained her soul. He set it up on the shelf beside the others. Each was beautiful, colors chosen by the souls they contained. Each a slightly imperfect shell just as their bodies had been in life.
Every serial killer is an artist of sorts, and many take souvenirs. But he was a master whose art imitated the life in their soul. He could proudly display his work. He was a god now and this room of souls the new heaven. The shelf on the other side of the room was bare. What he needed now, was to find a girl who liked red.