AND THERE SHE WAS.
(A WORK IN PROGRESS.)
She sits on the curb outside the 7-11,
smoking a cigarette.
"Hey, kid, you don't look old enough
for that."
She laughs lightly. "Yeah, I hear that a
lot." Her gruff voice betrays her young, innocent face.
"Well, whatever, it doesn't matter. Mind if I bum one
from ya?"
She
shrugs and starts rifling through her bag -- a neverending sea of empty
cigarette packs, shreds of paper with long forgotten names and
numbers, and empty film cannisters -- for a pack of Marlboro
Menthol 100's. The man takes
a seat beside her on the curb. She glances over at him and sees he's
missing an arm. She guesses he's about thirty-five years old, though
he has a full head of grey hair.
"Here." She
hands him a cigarette and flicks the lighter for him. In the dim,
orange glow she examines his face. Icy blue eyes, a full days growth
of stubble, and an awkward half smile, like he's out of practice. He
smokes like James Dean.
“So, what's a little girl like you
hanging around here for? It's late, shouldn't you be in bed?”
Her soft, sweet laughter fills the air,
and she shakes her head at him.
“You wouldn't believe me if I told
you.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“C'mon, just try me.”
She shrugs, “Fine, but you asked for
it.” She breathes in deeply. “I am hunting. I sit here, on
this curb, and wait for my victims to come to me. I am the destroyer
of souls.”
She looks like at him and grins
roguishly, and he laughs in response.
“Mmhmm, sure, and I am the greatest
juggler this side of the Mississippi.”
She looks at her quickly dying
cigarette and takes a long drag.
“They never believe me. I take my
time, they warm up to me, they let their guard down, and then...then
they're mine. The souls. You see, nothing is more sweetly
satisfying than the intoxication of the game, the chase. I didn't
like it at first, this role I'm meant to play, but I've learned to
embrace it. Sometimes it's the only thing you can do.”
The man stands up and and gives the
girl with a doll like face a hard look.
“You're crazy, you know.”
He turns his back to her and starts
heading down the street.
She sits there, lights another
cigarette, and watches him walk off into the distance.
“Hey!” she shouts, “Meet me
tomorrow night.”
A silhouette turns around under the street light.
His voice is tinged with slight
reluctance, “Yeah, I'll be here.”
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