vim

She cried all night again. I could hear her. I need to sleep. I had moved her down into the basement in hopes that her whimpering wouldn't sneak up through the cold floor. Its an old house though. Thin walls, thin floors. She may as well have been lying next to me. Crying. Begging. I'll start on her today i think. I really need to sleep.
Italian tempered steel. Each tool thoughtfully swaddled in calfskin. Touch each point. If skin breaks, the tool is ready. I always keep them ready. I twist one in the light of a sun beam at the kitchen window. Blinding. Like a glimmering sharp-toothed, carnivorous grin of anticipation. Wanting to feel her smooth skin against its tip. Wanting to tear in and reveal whats inside her. Wanting to know what she's hiding. Set her free. She's waiting for us in the basement. Cold. Vulnerable. Pleading. Beautiful.
I regard her for long moments, feeling her stare. It makes my head hurt. I trace her soft figure with my dust filled eyes. The curve of her neck. Her face. Her delicate feet. Her breasts. Her trembling stomach. My God she is perfect. I wondered how long she had been there. Trapped. Cold. Alone. Millions of years I was sure. And with that I began. With a swift, deafening clang, hammer met steel, steel met stone, and the first of her soft, pink marble fell to the floor in dust and small pieces.