I spun the knife over my fingers, seeing only a flash of metal every few seconds. I watched it intently. The girl whimpered. The small sound broke my focus and sent the knife flying towards my face. I ducked and heard the thunk! as it lodged itself in the wall. I slowly turned to it. Up to the hilt.
I pulled it out and spun around to the girl. Her eyes widened as I stalked closer. In a flash, I had the knife to her throat. She made a small sound that I can only describe as a squeak. My grin grew wider as I put my mouth to her ear.
“Beg for your life,” I whispered. She remained silent, tears rolling down her face. I slid the knife closer. It was touching now. Silence. I pushed deeper, a single drop of blood beading on the knife.
”Please,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. I smiled and drew the knife away, licking the blood off. She looked at me, eyes still wide. I paced around her for a few seconds and drove the knife home without hesitation.
I fell to my knees and sobbed, wondering why I’d done it. But my actions were a broken record, on an endless repeat. I sobbed harder as I looked at her limp body, still tied to the chair.
Do I have it in me, I've never had to ask myself this. In a dark ally, yes, I'll not blink, I'll leave a kiss.
I'm a shadow, lost in the crowd, nothing to notice, never too loud. Hanging back in the darkness, keeping too herself, almost forgotten, replaced by someone else.
Her mind is clear, memorizing every scene, replaying in her head the past, the future only she can see. Calmly, patiently, she'll take her time, when its right she'll be ready, She promised a friend of mine.
Never, could she, no one turned her way; only a few seconds, that's all it would take. No hesitation, no feelings of remorse, one move of her finger, it's over, her only recourse.
Gone, never there, not a trace, keeping silent, seen in a different place. Not a blink of an eye, but sealed with a kiss, in the shadows she hid, never noticed, never missed.
The mats are the last thing every night – four foot
by three foot, three quarters of an inch
thick, rubber -- row after row of rings
each with flimsy spines, for traction. The ones in my area –
the dish--zone – are easy. But the red ones
under the Souse Chef – Leonard -- are caked
with lard, chunks of fallen shrimp. I’m telling you the guy’s
a fucking disaster. He’s a crappy cook too, but
he kisses Judy’s ass. The waitresses kiss Leonard’s ass.
Leonard kisses Judy’s ass. She kisses the customers. Everybody
sucks up to Dr. Henry -- comes in every
Friday with a new anorexic bimbo. I saw him once. He
came to the kitchen entryway to compliment
the food. The way he looked at Judy, he took her
in the palm of his hand and stroked
her across the forehead like a gerbil. Man, she
would have taken him right there
on the mats. No one kisses my ass, you know. Some
of the waitresses are nice; they ask, “How’re you feeling? Did
you have a good Christmas?” It sucked. Thank you.
They think they’re good people, asking
about my day off. Why don’t you help me
clean these fucking mats? Let’s see you covered
with chicken chunks and eggplant marinated. Let's watch you
wrestle these mother--fuckers
over the goddamn fire escape. Fingers shriveled
in cold water as I squeeze the hose, I throw back my head
to the crisp March sky, and scream
“FUCK YOU!” at the stars. The universe
doesn’t even yawn, just
keeps rolling endlessly through itself.
They said it wouldn't change much, that I'd barely feel the loss, I know they lied. I'd known even at the time but desperation made me ignore the huge pulsating knot in my stomach. I'm still not sure if I regret it, I know what I've lost but at the same time those things no longer hold the value or allure they once did. I have to say in many ways it's made my life so much easier, I can do things now that my old self would never have been capable of. There was also the added benefit of not having to deal with the stuff that used to occupy my every thought. As hoped my anxiety is gone and I no longer have to worry about my family or friends. I am free now, selling my soul made it easy to dispose of all of them.
“Most people fear the dark -- the shadow, the cracks, the spaces that lie between what can and can’t be seen. These individuals walk about b
Some evils walk in the dark
Hiding in shadow and quiet
Living life in blackness
Some people fear the darkness
The shadow, the cracks, the spaces
Between what we can and cannot see
These people walk about blindly
Searching for good in the light
When not all of the evil falls in the dark
What if the light is not good?
What if the brightness is blinding?
What if we all are mistaken?
In the end, the hero writes the story
The villain dies, and what you read is biased
Designed to make the winner the hero
The villain may have always been the victim
The hero may be the monster you loathe
Stories are written by the winner
A villain is simply a hero
Who has been broken one time too many
And never been saved
And what, you say,
For those who willingly choose
To walk in the darkness?
Well, little one, who has not
Been pushed into the blackness
And failed to escape?
Just like our eyes, little one
Our hearts have a way
Of adjusting to the blackness
Some are forced into the darkness
Some follow it willingly
And others follow it blindly
How can we define this darkness?
How can we know if we, too
Have been the villain in this fight?
It is the evil we fight
Not the darkness, and not the light
For evil is everywhere
Evil is everywhere, and oft unnoticed
Walking beside us on the street
And lurking in our souls
Take a deep breath, little one
Take a deep breath and search your soul
For you may have been the evil all along
Take a deep breath
Search your heart, and pray
Pray you are not the evil you fear
It may already be too late
There is wickedness in darkness, in light
Be careful, little one, for you may be the darkness you fight
Is That So Bad?
Where is the line between good and evil drawn?
Is it good that I gave up my afternoons to help my friend even when I was exhausted?
Is it good that I made my boyfriend cookies even though I couldn’t afford it?
Is it good that I stayed up to finish my work although I knew I would have splitting head aches the next day?
Was it bad that I did all of the things above just to keep myself from feeling guilty?
Was it bad that although I did everything for someone else, I had to do it for me.
Was it bad, was it selfish that I do so much for me? I do so much for me and claim it’s for someone else.
Is that so bad?
Death and Desire
The moon passed through the tree tops and illuminated the small area where Cross and Katrina stood. Cross looked over at the half demon. Her skin was blue now, because of the moonlight, and her golden colored eyes reflected the dim light giving them a glowing effect. In other light, sun or flame, she had olive colored skin and green eyes.
She wore a tight bodice with the strings dangling in the front, but no sleeves so she could still move her arms easily. Small strips of silk hung around her waist allowing movement, but also allowing her long, toned legs to be seen. She knew the effect she had on men, and women, and used it to her advantage every chance she got.
Cross wore a simple black tunic and breeches, both loose enough to manuever in, but tight enough not to get tangled. His red hair was pulled back into a short tail.
“Are we going to do this or what?” he asked.
Katrina gave him a half smile and slid up beside him, taking one of his arms in her hand. The other felt along his chest and downward. Cross tried to step away, tried not to let her see how he responded to her touch, but she gripped his arm tighter and pulled him close.
“Oh, we are,” she purred. “Don’t be so impatient. It’s the anticipation that matters most.”
Cross wrenched his arm away, Kat’s fingernails left bloody marks on his skin. “Let’s get this done. Go into the settlement, kill Collin, and leave.”
Katrinia pouted. “You are so innocent aren’t you? We’ll kill Collin, of course,” she reached a hand up to stroke his cheek. “But we aren’t going to leave til I have a little fun, too.”
Cross gritted his teeth as she touched him. “How many?”
Katrina smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. “How many are there?”
“Maybe, but I know what I want.” She reached for his groin, but he grabbed her wrist and held tight. She laughed, reached a hand behind his neck, and pulled his head foreward. She forced his lips open and her tongue darted in and out of his mouth. He hated his body, but he found himself returning the kiss.
She revolted him. Made him sick to his stomach, but when she touched him, he wanted her. He hated her for that.
She stepped away, licked her lips, and tilted her head to the side. “Ready to go?”
Without a word, Cross pushed passed her and walked toward the small settlement, just beyond the trees.
* * *
Cross watched as the make-shift huts burned bright with flame. He didn’t want to see, but someone had to be a witness to this horror. His eyes glanced to the right.
A few yards away, Kat, her skin olive toned in the light of the burning houses, sat naked and covered in blood atop a dying man’s body. Her dagger plunged deep into his chest.
The man’s body convulsed as he tried and failed to breath. The half demon gave him a hungry look and as life drained from him, she bent down and gave him a deep long kiss.
Cross turned away and closed his eyes.
A few minutes later, he heard a soft scrapping behind him. He knew she was there, still hungry, waiting for him to turn around. She pressed her breast against his back, wrapping her bloody arms around his stomach, staining his shirt.
“Do I disgust you?” she whispered in his ear. He felt a surge of desire course down his body. Damn her and damn himself.
“Yes.” He turned around in her arms. “Always.” She pulled him close and pressed her blood soaked lips against his. The taste of copper filled his mouth. Still, he craved her. His own arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her tighter.
The last thing he remembered before being consumed with her body, was the creaking and breaking of one of the buring huts as it fell in on itself.
I never wanted this my father had been a catcher since he turned 17 and I was assumed the position when I myself turned 22 for women it's different.
I sit across from Dale, a new guy in my life who I doubt is ready for this kind of life I live. He is taller than me but average height. We met at work a few months back, and he asked me out for lunch today for the first time.
He studies his menu while I analyze his arms, both resting on the table. His protruding veins rest underneath his cream skin.
“What are you getting? I want breakfast, but I want dinner too.” his voice is carried on the aroma of the coffee swirling around my head.
“I'm thinking about dinner too so many choices.”
The waitress approaches her bulging belly hangs under her shirt.
“What can I get you guys?” She says.
We both decide on the French Toast deal.
She removes both menus and titters away. Dale looks over at me and smiles. All I can think about is if he’s really ready for this. He barely knows me and I can feel how deeply passionate he feels about me. I like him and I can barely contain my excitement when he comes in but im thinking about his wellbeing and the repercussions he’ll face when they find out about us. He’ll be more at risk than ever.
“French toast, eggs over easy, sausage and side of hash enjoy.”
“So what do you think about the new launch product?” his mouth full of French toast. It's hard not to giggle and reach across and wipe the egg off his chin. We stare into each other's eyes a passionate staring contest.
“I mean the design is great, but a product of that quality is too underpriced.”
The woman returns with the receipt handing the small leather booklet instead of placing it on the table. I open it to see the damage, and there is a small sigil under the total. It means “BRING YOUR EVIL” if you're a 3rd generation catcher you should be able to read sigils. This one is ancient, and it's from a carrier, so this is only the messenger.
“How far along?” I inquire, handing back the booklet and my card.
“June,” she says her smile stretched across her face.
“Boy or Girl?” my brow raised.
“Boy.” she titters away once again.
“ill be right back. I have to use the rest room.” I excuse myself to find her.
“Hey check this little guy out!” I return with a small yellow finch.
“He flew right in the bathroom window, you ready to go?” he gathers his things gushing over the bird.
We part ways, and I find a nearby alley and let the thing fly off. I slide my book out, checking my numbers.
Sixteen demons down a 499,567 to go.