Short Stories: The Meet

Inspired by this piece on Deviant Art, by Asfodelo.

He’d watched her sit in the little, dingy booth, gnawing absent-minded on some spicy chicken wings (he’d recognise that smell anywhere). He’d never quite been brave enough to order anything from the menu in the disrespectful diner, least of all something that could be smothered in hot sauce, but she’d picked apart the wings to find all the actual meat, and sat there with a bored expression as she ate, then pulled pieces of bird flesh from between her teeth.

After watching discretely for a few minutes, he took a stroll over to the ‘table’ where she sat, and ignored how the crate underneath him creaked as he sat down.

“Not hot enough for you?” He drawled.

“Nothing ever is.” She replied without looking at him.

He gestured at the pile of bones. “You know, rumour says this place doesn’t actually serve chicken.”

“Rumour is, I don’t care, it’s food.” She said as she leaned back against the booth. “What do you want?”

“Just to make some polite conversation…” He smiled. “And I have to admit to a mild curiosity to what’s in those two black bags you brought in here.”

“Oh these?” Her jet black spiked hair took on a strange blue aura from the neon light behind her. “What’s in these is a case of mind your own business mister.”

He put his hands in the air. “Oh I ain’t threatening to steal them missy. I was just intrigued, is all.”

“You don’t wanna be. You don’t want to see me sitting here, trust me. You wanna go home and forget you ever saw me.”

He lowered his hands and placed one on the table. “Why, you bad news?”

She smiled. It was not a pleasant image. “The worst. Armageddon rides on my shoulders.”

“And why is that?”

“Because the world outside you see now, with all the death and destruction and the people hurtin’… that was just a foreshadowin’. What’s in these bags, it’ll doom anyone ‘cept me.”

“Is that so?” He leaned forward. “Well see now you have my curiosity at a peak. How can one little lady, who by all accounts is alone, sittin’ in one grungy diner, be the bringer of death, with two black sacks?”

She leaned forward too. “Because this ‘little lady’ has brought death before, in ways you cannot begin to imagine. People who crossed me, who tried to hurt me, they didn’t live long enough to learn. People who try to stop my work, they wish they were dead.” Her eyes were harsh. “You wanna leave now, and you don’t wanna look back.”

A cold shiver had run down his spine, despite the stifling humidity. Her voice, her face, but most of all her eyes, spoke of an evil he didn’t dare comprehend. He rose without another work, gave the bags one last suspicious look, and turned and walked away, leaving the woman alone once more.

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