Turnabout is Fair Play

Shadow enveloped Mitch as he stood outside the Golden Calf Pub.  A cold drizzle fell,  adding an additional layer of misery to the already frosty autumn air.  It was almost time he thought as he tugged the collar of his ugly tan trenchcoat up to try to get some warmth.  I would be warmer he mused if I had bothered to wear clothes under this trench coat. Despite the chill biting through him, he luxuriated in the freedom he felt without the confining clothing entrapping his body.

The time on his silver wristwatch said 2:00 am. He rubbed his frosty hands together and waited for the inevitable flow of people coming out of the bar.  Sure enough, the crowd of tired and drunk humans teetered out the door.  It was then he saw her.  She was taller than most women, maybe nearing 6 feet.  Her wavy, flaming orange hair was beginning to be matted on her head from the rain.  Despite the chill, she wore only a white low cut blouse and a tight leather miniskirt that barely covered anything.  Her shoes were 6” matte black stilettos.  

Mitch gaped at her voluptuous body and thrilled as the rain rendered her shirt slightly transparent, and revealed that she wore no bra over her buxom chest.  She was perfect. He hoped she would go off on her own. Focusing on her eyes wide, he tried to will the girl away from the other patrons.

Against all hope she stumbled down a side road alone, stilettos clicking loudly on the pavement in unevenly.  His mouth stretched into a toothy grin, but there was nothing mirthful in the gesture.  His eyes glittered with lust as he began to cross the empty street to follow after her.

He found her again under a streetlight, leaning heavily against a wall on an elbow, head hanging from her neck unsteadily, half her face shining in the beam of the lamp.  The rain had made her clothes cling even tighter than they had when he first saw her,  the light silhouetting her perfect form.  Breathing heavily, he stalked closer, not wanting to move under the light, but unwilling to let this one get away. He stopped about 5 feet away, haunting the shadows of the moonless night.

After a moment, she pushed herself off the wall with an audible grunt, and took stumbling steps down the street, clicking loudly, giving Mitch a clear way to follow her.  He moved quickly through the streetlight,  listening for any sign she might have noticed him, but her steps continued unabated.  Good, he thought a cell call could end his game real quick.

He followed her shadow through the pitch black streets, and an animalistic grin crossed his face.  She had turned down an alley, one he knew had no exit.  He hurried down the shadowed and rain soaked alley to finally get what was his.

She stood at the end of the alley, back to him, leaning on both hands against the wall.  No escape now he mused and reached into a pocket pulling out a 6” blade, which glittered under the light of the sole streetlight that reached into his trap.

“You are beautiful.”  Mitch spoke in a husky tone “and you are mine.  Turn around slowly so I can see you.  I am armed, and have no problem with dead prey”  He stretched his hands magnanimously.  “Although I prefer alive and kicking”

She turned slowly, face entering the light.  It was ethereal, symmetrical, smooth, with a wry grin.  The visage was too perfect, it seemed unreal.

“Oh no” she said sarcastically “whatever shall I do?”.  Her drunken swaying had ceased and she stood towering over his short stocky form, hand on her hip the other curled as if to use her perfectly manicured nails as claws.

He stepped back, confused.  Prey never acted like this.  They begged, they screamed, they cried, and usually bled.  This was not how she should act.  He needed the look of terror. The understanding of her impending doom.  Still, she was perfect, and he would have her.

He reached down with he free hand and unknotted the belt holding his coat closed.  Cold air flowed in around his body, prickling his skin.  The predatory grin returned, and he was sure she now knew what he meant for her.

She had watched all this silently, mouth curved upwards, and her bright green eyes piercing through him. “That’s all huh, I expected something a little more – substantial.  Guess that’s why you take your girls by force, huh?”

A burning flush washed over his face “How dare you!” he waved the knife and walked towards her.  She stood still, smirking at him, taunting him.  She won’t be so smug when the knife cuts her. Then she’ll show proper fear.  He charged, shining blade flying towards her chest.

The woman let out a deep breath and rolled her eyes.  She held a hand in front of the advancing blade and the knife crumpled like tissue paper.  “Well I gave you a final chance to back off, but I suppose you are irredeemable” her voice was filled with regret.  She began to stretch higher, her body becoming unreal, too perfect.  Two extensions began to grow from her back, sprouting feathers and becoming great wings.  Her clothes disintegrated, immediately replaced by a flowing gown.  She closed her right hand and clenched the wooden handle of a great spear, with a gilded blade.  Her body gave off an ethereal light, filling him with a strange sense of calm.

That changed when her piercing green eyes fell on him.  He felt a tearing feeling in his soul, and tears filled his eyes.  “You are now feeling the pain of your victims. Do you feel it? 15 victims.  All helpless, violated by you, then killed slowly. Their bodies dismembered and hidden where they won’t be found.” her voice boomed mightily at him, like a chorus.

“I’m so sorry.” he sobbed “they were things not people, I never even thought of their pain.  Please forgive me” he dropped to his knees.

Imperiously, she stared down at him, her feet rising away from the rain soaked pavement.  The chorus rang out again, mercilessly “No.  I will not forgive you.  If you want forgiveness seek it from my Lord.  I am only vengeance.”

He never saw the blade move, only felt it strike his manhood.  A horrific shriek echoed throughout the alley.  “That is for your first victim, Jessica, she was a babysitter on her way home when you met her.” Striking again, the spear thrust through his shoulder, and again she told him his victim’s story.

This continued, her golden blade striking methodically into elbows, ankles, knees and more. With every blow she listed off another name and story. Mitch wailed and begged, but the emerald eyes only glared mercilessly.  It seemed like hours of agony, the litany of sins burning into his mind, entering his consciousness.  After an eternity, Mitch lay prone, covered head to toe in wounds, mouth open in a silent scream.

“You will live. Your wounds do not bleed, but you will be an invalid, weak and helpless.  At every moment the names and stories will echo in your mind, with no reprieve.  You will not be allowed to commit suicide, should you try I will come and ‘save’ you.” the chorus was cold, emotionless. “You will live every day in pain and misery, remembering your sins, living to a ripe old age.” she turned away from him, then turned to look over her shoulder “Perhaps if you pray to the Lord each day, and do good works, He might give you a reprieve and allow you to die early.  Enjoy your new life. You worthless piece of filth.” She rose silently, wings outstretched, floating into the heavens, leaving Mitch crying in the pouring rain, alone.

Published by Robert C Hartwell

I live in Northeastern Vermont in the US. I am currently working towards becoming an author. I am the proud father of two great kids.

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