He stood there motionless, a studious finger tapping pursed lips as he studied his vast array of knives. He had all sorts — big, cruel ones, dainty-yet-deadly ones, knives with blunt edges and those that can sever a man’s limb before he knows it; he had them all. In an absent-minded motion, he reached out … Continue reading Slice of Life
I moved into this flat just a couple of days ago, and I have yet to feel comfortable here. On paper, it’s perfect. A massive tree just outside my window provides the right amount of cover from the harsh sun. The nights are breezy, and the gentle rustling of the leaves on the tree is … Continue reading Birds of a Feather
I was going stir-crazy, so I decided to head to the nearest bar. Four drinks down, I saw this girl making eyes at me. A slight nod of greeting and three more drinks later, we were struggling to get our clothes off in the loo.
Look at her, so peaceful in her sleep, so blissfully unaware of her impending doom, Albert thought, she is a rather beautiful woman, isn’t she? Take in that flawless skin, those powder blue eyes, that long, slender, straight nose and those perfect teeth. Bask in her dazzling smile, and the inert dignity. Her beauty, if anything, is enhanced in repose.
He remembered the fateful night like it was yesterday. He could still hear the terrified screams as the killer stalked his wife through their darkened house, as he lay on the floor, emasculated with fear.
He stood like that till he felt the music begin to tingle. The tingling began in his toes before turning into a raging surge of electricity throughout his body. It went and fired his brain up and he looked into the crowd for the first time.
Shuddering involuntarily, she opened a crack in the window and looked around the settlement. As she expected, not a soul was out in this wretched weather. As the sun began sinking into the horizon that evening, the elders in the village saw telltale signs of the coming storm. Everyone had taken shelter; all the hatches were battened down, all windows were boarded up and all doors, bolted shut.
Homicide Detectives William Craig and Mitchell Tovey got into their unmarked squad cars, and fired the engine up. I barely had time to squeeze into the backseat before they drove off in a squeal of tyres. "That was close," I said, grinning. They didn't reply. Craig kept his eyes on the road in a grim manner while Tovey looked out of the car, frowning at nothing in particular.
And there was the silence, washing over his ears with a nectarine sweetness, especially after the din and roar of forty submachine guns drilling holes in over 400 people. The length of time it took for those gunmen to kill those many people, and the dying screams of those getting riddled with bullets, followed by the moans of those in the throes of death made for an odd-sounding symphony.