Choke

To preface, this was a challenge issued by my writing group, Wicked Wordsmiths of the West, to take any poem and adapt it to a short story. My choice of poem was "Porphyria's Lover" by Robert Browning, which is included at the bottom of this piece for those who are unfamiliar. I do apologize for the unpolished wording, as it was written very spur of the moment and is still in need of revisions. 

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Choke



“Do it,” the voice hissed. I hesitated, my hands faltering.

I must save this poor girl, I told myself, and my resolve strengthened.

Gabrielle had become my everything, an angel sent to me in my darkest hour. We’d met online, a friend request giving way to months of private messaging. I’d spent hours just looking at her profile picture. Although her smile was radiant, I could see the glumness in her green eyes, how restrained she felt, like a saddled horse aching to run wild. She was beautiful, with her pale skin and golden hair. That HAIR. Not once in the eighteen years of her life had she ever cut it. Doing so would go against the strict beliefs of the church she’d grown up in, a religion she’d been itching to rebel against, not altogether, but in small ways. Even now, our first time meeting in person, she had traded her long skirt for a tight pair of jeans, and I could even detect the hint of makeup a girlfriend had carefully helped apply.

Naturally, she’d been curious about me, a stranger from the outside world held by no religious rules or regulations, but I was just as curious in her. Her innocence intrigued me. Women these days were, for lack of a better term, spoiled. Gabrielle, though, she was delicate and reserved, untouched in every way. In the beginning, she’d attempted to sell me on her beliefs, but then found herself becoming more intrigued by my tempting details of freedoms she had never experienced. Sex, that had been the winner. Surrendering all innocence to absolute carnal pleasure. It was this topic that she was most inquisitive about, and I freely answered her burning questions as descriptively as I could. She was an intelligent girl with a love of learning, and I could sense her desire to truly know the experience. That’s when she agreed to meet me here, at this cheap motel on the outskirts of town, to expand her education. I would be the teacher, and Gabrielle would be my pupil.

I was reclined on the bed when she arrived. Her clothes were dripping with the heavy rain from this evening’s storm, and she quickly shrugged off her jacket before uttering a nervous hello. I smiled at her, but did not move. I stared, taking in every inch of her. Her hands went to the tight bun on her head, and pulling out the hairpins, she let her golden tresses uncoil and cascade down her back. Vixen! Her cheeks turned rosy pink as she slid onto the bed and lay herself next to me. Her shoulders smooth and white like milk, they were revealed by a sleeveless shirt her parents would have certainly disapproved of. She tilted my head so that I may rest against the exposed flesh as she cooed sweet comments of her excitement to finally meet me. I listened, bewitched with a growing uncertainty. Something was very wrong with this.

It was her slender hand sliding along the buttons of my shirt that led me to the realization. Tender, sweet Gabrielle…I was corrupting her. In my loneliness, I’d found this beautiful angel who was pure and gentle, and here I was, ready to spoil this maiden. I would take the innocence she could never regain. Sure enough, I looked up into her eyes and was met with a loving gaze, full of passion and joy. What should I do? To defile her would mean that I could no longer enjoy her virginal purity, a quality I had so admired in her. She would never look the same to me, a rotten fruit not worthy of being consumed.

She blissfully kissed my forehead as I debated. The voice in my head whispered uncertainties, until at last, a conclusion was reached. Tonight, she was just as I wished to keep her forever, pure and unspoiled. I could preserve this beautiful youth, with her soft skin and loving eyes, and she would forever be untainted.

I stroked her hair with a smile beginning to play upon my lips. I twisted the thick locks through my fingers, and I heard her giggle softly. Yes, this was the thing to do. My Gabrielle, she would be mine always. The voice inside me urged me onward. “Do it,” it said firmly.

My heart swelled with love and adoration as I wound the rope of hair around her tiny throat. Three times around it wrapped, and I pulled tight. Although her eyes bulged with sudden fear, I’m sure she felt no pain. She would understand. I was saving her! She was gasping and tried to reach out for me. I took hold of her delicate fingers with my spare hand and brushed my lips upon them as the fight drained out of her. She would be innocent forever now, chaste and fair for all time. Perfection!

At last, her emerald eyes closed, lashes fluttering softly like butterfly wings. Unwinding the hair from her throat, I was pleased to see there was barely a mark upon her pale flesh. Her cheeks were a flushed red, and I kissed her on each side before kissing her slightly parted mouth, still warm and coated with a glaze of cherry flavored lip gloss. I pushed back her lids to gaze upon her eyes once more, and then rested her head gently upon my chest. We lay together as I prided myself on my own brilliance. I could have her anytime I’d like, and now she would always remain the same, unspoiled. She would never leave me. Even God could not take her from me, though she’d been so devout for so long. I waited for a sign of his presence, something to show his displeasure at me claiming one of his flock for my own. Nothing. God must know that it was me that Gabrielle truly worshipped, and now she would always be my angel.


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Porphyria’s Lover
By Robert Browning

The rain set early in to-night,
      The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
      And did its worst to vex the lake:
      I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
      She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
      Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
      Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
      And laid her soiled gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
      And, last, she sat down by my side
      And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
      And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
      And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
      And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me — she
      Too weak, for all her heart's endeavour,
To set its struggling passion free
      From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
      And give herself to me for ever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
      Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
      For love of her, and all in vain:
      So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
      Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshipped me; surprise
      Made my heart swell, and still it grew
      While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
      Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
      In one long yellow string I wound
      Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
      I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
      I warily oped her lids: again
      Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untightened next the tress
      About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
      I propped her head up as before,
      Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
      The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
      That all it scorned at once is fled,
      And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria's love: she guessed not how
      Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
      And all night long we have not stirred,
      And yet God has not said a word!