The Glittering Blackness

A twist of your fingers,

a flick of your wrist.

Look out, girl, you’re heading for bliss.

Mistress of Mischief.

Princess of Pain.

Tongue swimming through a cloud of smoke,

sometimes the laughter gets lost in the joke.

Pushing in and out of herself,

she held herself steady on the stool.

She had long ago placed chagrin and embarrassment on her mental shelf of emotions for which she had no use,

allowing her a rare confidence which helped her acquire her wealth.

She came hard, leaving beneath her a sticky little pool.

She glanced around, mildly curious to see if anyone had watched, and ordered a beer with a shot of goose.

“It seems you’ve made a mess, my dear.” a man behind her spoke softly.

“Why are you here?” she hissed haughtily.

“No time for games? Then I’ll quickly explain.

I’ve been searching for years…” He downed the rest of her beer.

Sharply, “Looking for what? A girl without pox?”

“Hardly, I like a woman who flaunts what she’s got.

You’re more my speed.”

“State your business. Is there something you need?”

Banter aside, they pulled in the reins.

Sure no one’s watching, they make the exchange.

He slips her the bills under the bar, one million in bucks.

Plenty to fund her cheap thrills: Fast Cars and Bad Luck.

She pockets the money, then slips him a kiss.

Whispers, “Thanks for it, Honey.” Then kicks him a diss.

“Your job is done so be on your wheels, stop staring so raptly.”

He gets up hotly, wanting more than a deal. “Tease.” He scoffed rather aptly.

Out past the doors, he cuts down a back street. Unaware, she’s also left her seat.

Fog, thick as a moor, she jets past this black beat. She waits by the end, so they can really meet.

He rounds the corner and stumbles, then tries to get up. 

He pounds back to the pavement retching violently, and mumbles, “What the fuck…”

She sits 6 ft. away in a corner to the mans rear. She watches with joy, hidden just right.

“Seems you’ve made a mess, my dear.”, She jeers, stepping into the light.

She crouches down by his face, turning purple as he’s starting to choke.

“Calm down, dying isn’t a race. You’ve plenty of time to croak.”

“…Dyyling? MMMmmmh!”

“Oh, hush. There’s no use getting all upset about it, darling. Your fate was sealed twenty minutes prior.

No struggle or fuss. But that kiss you found so startling? The moment your lips touched mine, your life was snuffed out like a fire.”

She sat on a crate and began filing her nails, whilst she talked of her hobby.

“Do you have any idea how many of your obsolete associates i’ve impailed? Or, like you, poisoned with poppy?” 

She folded her hands in her lap, giving them a rest. A single sigh escaped from her chest, heavy and exasperated.

“Every time one of you becomes a pest, whom do they call?” She cupped her hand to her ear affectation-ally and waited.

Save for a few shallow, choking breaths, no answer arose from her victim.

She seemed all too excited to withdraw her hand and shout gleefully, ”Moi! Silly! After all, I am the best! You want proof? Get this: Not only do I make the most-est money in the industry. I’ve also invented and pioneered a much more efficient

and logical way to collect said money.”

Her captive began grasping frenziedly at his throat, his eyes bulging dangerously.  A loud PLONK! began echoing throughout the alleyway, caused by the hostess closing the distance between her and her guest in an instant,

backhanding him so hard his head rebounded off of the jagged brick wall. sending him sprawled about the concrete floor, a small amount of dark red liquid pooling where his fractured, and surely concussed, head lay.

She paced around the semi-conscious body as if nothing had happened, rendering am icy, dangerously pleasant smile across the murderesses face. Not fooling anyone, a tone of remorse had entered her voice as she spoke lamely.

“I’m sorry”, She pouted, crouching down to position her face an inch or so from

the face of her, miraculously, still living hostage. 

She began clearing her throat, purposely spewing saliva across his face, “m-mom?”

He managed, delirious. “Hm. No.”, she began unwrapping a generic lozenge,

popping into her still smiling mouth, as she pulled him up by a fistful

of bloody, matted hair. “Never. Interrupt. Me. Again.” She whispered, slightly wistful.

“Now. Back to my story, eh? Is that alright with you, fuckface?”

Terrified, he tried to right himself, shakily on his hands and knees. “What a disgrace”

His psychopath muttered as he slipped in his own blood, busting his chin on the floor.

“Anyyyywaaaayyyyy…” She yawned and seated herself next to an alley door.

“As I was saying: Not only do I have the highest pay rate in the industry,         I’ve also invented and pioneered the most efficient and logical way to collect this money.

Doing away with all the unsavory characters that usually deal with the dropping off and picking up of the cash. Now, you might say: How does one find soar aloft of   an entire sub-market profession, within ones own profession?”

As she spoke this last question she began tilting her head dramatically to one side, adopting a innocent and confused facial expression. 

She held the pose for a few seconds, when a humongous gasp seemed to burst out of her and she was ready to reveal the last of her self-devised-method. ”Simple. I began only to work for other, larger, hit corps.” She paused, smiling deliriously for several seconds.

“But instead of hitting personal or military targets, I only take other contract killers, like myself. These companies send their deserters, their injured, their untrustworthy all to me, in exchange for vast amounts of wealth.

The most dangerous of all prey: the predator.” A wicked gleam shone in her eyes, as she began the final pitch. “Instead of entrusting my money to thieves and scoundrels, these companies send me the very targets themselves to deliver the fee to me.” She began to twitch.

“They have no idea of course, It seems like just another side job to the target. Little do they know that they are paying me to have themselves killed.”

The laughter that filled the air now, was rife with her madness, leaving the dying mans very veins chilled.

She watched him from behind her manic smile as all of this sunk in. 

His eyes grew wide with the knowledge that death was fast approaching, that he would not, could not, survive the winter of her gaze, he looked upwards at the snow that had begun to fall, every flake that rested upon his shoulders and head, a great weight carrying with it the accumulation of all of his life’s sin.

Her laughter buried him before the snow could, the last sound that reached his ears as the poison finally finished it’s job.

His eyes bulged one last time, before floating to the back of his skull, he felt the pull of something at once familiar and long forgotten