Blind

Blind

by Lithopedion


"I'm sorry!" Kim said, as tears streamed from her unseeing eyes, "I didn't mean to make you mad!" She felt a sharp sting, as the knife slashed across her side. She yelped in pain, and crouched as if to shield herself. But it was no use. The knife slashed across her face, cutting deeply. She screamed again, and was answered by only laughter. "Why are you doing this to me?" Kim cried. No answer. She lashed out, futilely trying to hit her attacker. Again the blade cut her, this time on the back. She fell on the ground.
"Time for you to die, bitch!" a male voice yelled gruffly. Violently the man grabbed her, and threw her against the wall. She began to cry out again, but the knife plunged into her throat, and she felt nothing more.
Carlos set down his knife and stood, his shirtless, muscular body wet with blood. "God, that was good," he said.



Three Weeks Later

Ian sat in the park, admiring the feel of a summer breeze across his face, and the grass between his feet. Nearby, a couple sat, happily laughing and talking, and a man played frisbee with his dog. Ian didn't see this though. He heard it. That was what you had to do, when you were blind. Learn to use your ears. Let your other senses take over. He rembered a movie that a friend had told him about. In it was a blind swordsman, who had used bright light to blind his enemies, and then defeat them. Their sight was their weakness. He had sort of adopted that as his own personal philosophy. Don't think of it as a weakness. Think of it as a hidden strength. His thought were interrupted as he heard someone sit down next to him.
"Hello," a pleasant female voice said.
"Hi," he replied.
"What's your name?"
"Ian," he said, "What's yours?"
"I'm Alice," she replied.
"How are you today, Alice?"
"I'm doing great. Actually, I just saw you sitting over here, with your walking stick and all, and thought I'd give you a ride back to your house, if you'd like." Ian thought for a moment.
"Alright," he said, "on one condition."
"What's that?" Alice asked.
"Don't give me a ride out of pity. Give me a ride just cause you're a nice person." Alice laughed. She had a very pleasant laugh, I an thought to himself.
"What's wrong with having pity on someone?" Alice asked.
"Oh, there's nothing wrong with pity, nothing at all," Ian responded, "But I don't feel that I need pity. I don't feel that I have a weakness, so therefore, I have no need for pity." Silence. Then Alice spoke.
"That's amazing," Alice said, "You're really an incredible person, aren't you?"
"Nah," Ian said, blushing slightly, "I'm just an ordinary guy, doing what I have to."
"And he's modest!" Alice exclaimed, "Why couldn't I have met a guy like you a long time ago?" Ian turned his head in the direction of her voice, and raised an eyebrow.
"Is that a pick- up line?" he asked, grinning. He could sense Alice blushing.
"Yeah, I guess so. I dunno, it just sorta slipped out."
"No need to apologize," Ian said, "I'm flattered."
"Really?" Alice asked.
"Yeah, I need the ego boost. Most girls feel too sorry for me to come up and talk to me."
"You're single?" Alice said surprisedly.
"Oh, hell yeah. I've been single for like a year. You sounded surprised to hear me say that. How come?"
"Well, you're really cute."
"Well, I guess having a blind boyfriend is a turnoff for most girls," Ian said.
"Not for me," Alice replied, "at least then you know your guy isn't looking at other girls." Ian laughed.
"That was good, I'll have to remember that," he chuckled. "So," Alice said, "would you, maybe, wanna go have some coffee sometime?" Ian smiled. "I'd like that."

"Well, I should probably drop you off, and then go home."
"Ok," Ian said. They made their way over to her car, and she helped him in.
"Alright," he said, "go up to 23rd street, take a right, go three blocks, take a left, and my house is the first one on the right."
"Ok," Alice said, as she started the car, and put it in gear. As they drove, Alice turned on the radio.
"In other news," the announcer said, "there have been no leads in the stabbing death of Kimberly Westerfield. The blind 17 year old was found in a dumpster, stabbed to death. Police believe she is the fifth victim of an apparent serial killer, who appears to choose his victims based on the fact that they are blind, however she is the first female victim. Police chief Daniel Starke stressed that they are working day and night to solve this case, but at present, have very few leads. If you have any information about this crime, please contact-" Alice shut the radio off.
"Horrible, just horrible," she said, "what kind of monster would do that?"
"Yeah, it's a shame," Ian said.
"Are you scared of that guy?" Alice said.
"Sort of," Ian replied, "but I figure I'd at least put up one hell of a fight. Who knows, I might win." He grinned.
"Well, here we are," Alice said.
"Thanks," Ian said.
"So, when do you wanna get together?" Alice asked.
"How about tomorrow, if you're free?" Ian said, after thinking for a moment, "You know where I live, so just come by around three, and we'll get together."
"Sounds good," Alice said. She reached over, and gave him a peck on the cheek. Ian blushed.
"Well, I'll see you tomorrow then," he said, as he got out and closed the door.
"Ok, see you then," Alice yelled, as she drove away. Ian whistled happily as he walked inside.

Alice picked Ian up at three o' clock sharp.
"What would you like to do?" She asked.
"I have no idea. It's totally up to you."
"I dunno, I guess we could go watch movies at my house, or something."
Ian smiled.
"Oh God, I'm sorry!" Alice cried, "I'm so stupid! I just forgot, that you were, you know-"
"Don't worry about it," Ian said laughing, "that would be great. I love movies."
"I still feel stupid," Alice said.
"Well don't, it happens," he replied. They arrived at her house, and went inside. Alice put in a movie.
"I'm gonna make some popcorn," she said.
"Mmm! Sounds good to me," Ian said happily. Alice put some popcorn in the microwave, then headed into her bedroom.


"He's here," she said to Carlos. Carlos smiled.


The microwave beeped, and Alice got up, to get the popcorn. She returned, and gave it to Ian. Carlos came out of the bedroom and on a second couch.
"I'll be right back," Alice said to Ian. She moved over to the second couch. Carlos lifted up her dress, and took off her panties. Then his fingers went between her thighs. Alice's eyes closed in ecstacy. She could barely keep from moaning. Then, Carlos took off his pants, and penetrated her. She gasped quietly. She didn't think Ian had heard her, but that was half the fun, thinking you might get caught. Carlos was excited, so it didn't take him long to finish. She pulled up her panties, and he put his pants back on. Then Alice composed herself.
"Sorry I took so long," she said, sitting down next to Ian. Carlos could barely keep from snickering.
"No problemo," Ian said, smiling in her general direction. They continued watching the movie. Alice put her hand on Ian's knee. She moved her hand slowly up to his groin, caressing the zipper on the front of his pants. Ian didn't seem to mind.
"I'll be right back again, hon," she said cocquettishly.
"I'll be here," Ian said softly. She motioned to Carlos, and went into her bedroom. Carlos followed.
"Let's do it now," she said.
"Yeah," Carlos said, grinning sadistically. He pulled his knife from out of a nearby dresser. "I'll fuck with him for awhile," he said, "then you come in. I want you to deliver the killing blow this time."
Alice laughed, "Ah, he'll be so sad."
Carlos snickered. "I hope so," he said. He walked into the living room, closing the door softly behind him.

A few minutes later, Alice emerged. Ian was sitting, watching the movie. She looked around. No sign of Carlos. He's was probably taking a smoke. Or hiding. He liked to drag it out as much as possible. Well, it was time to end this. She walked over to Ian.
"I have a surprise for you," she whispered.
"Me too," he said smiling. Alice pulled out her knife, and moved towards him. Ian looked up at her. Looked at her.
"Surprise!" he snarled, as she gasped in horror, "I'm not blind!" She started forward, but was stopped by the sight of a .357 Magnum.

"Where's Carlos?" Alice asked, trembling.
"Carlos? Your big, strong man?" Ian yelled. He motioned to the floor behind the couch. There was Carlos, staring up with empty eyes, his neck bent at an impossible angle. Alice screamed.
"Surprise number two!" Ian said. He raised the gun.
"Wait!" Alice shouted, "How did you do that? I mean, I could have sworn you were blind! How did you do it? Were you... were you blind once?"
"Surprise number three," Ian said. Then he smiled, a smile that did not touch his ice-cold eyes. "No, I was never blind." Then his smile faded, into a look of pure hatred. "But my sister... Kim... was."

Alice didn't even have time to scream, as every single bullet ripped through her brain.

The End

Lip Gloss

Lip Gloss

by Brandon J. Perkins


Amy slammed the door as she stormed out of the house, on her way to school. She was still furious at her boyfriend. Well, her ex-boyfriend. He'd broken up with her last night for some blond-haired whore in his sociology class. She'd make him pay, she thought as she got in her car and sped off. She'd get a date with the hottest, most popular guy in school, or something. She'd make sure he saw it. Then he'd be jealous. Of course, she knew in her heart that that would never happen, but she wouldn't allow herself to believe it. She wasn't a bad looking girl, but the hottest guy in school? Come on. Oh well. She'd find somebody.

Amy came home from school depressed. No luck. She'd tried to avoid all of Brian's hangouts in school, afraid she'd see him with that girl. In that respect, she was fortunate. She sat down on the couch, and picked up the phone, brushing aside a strand of her raven colored hair. Maybe she should dye it blonde. Blondes have more fun, after all. She dialed the number of her friend, Nick. "Hey, what's up?" Nick's voice said, as he realized who it was.
"Nothin' really," Amy replied, "I'm just pissed off."
"Ah, Brian still got you down, huh?" Nick said, knowingly.
"Yeah," she replied.
"You wanna hang out?" Nick said.
"Yeah," she replied. He always seemed to know what she was thinking.
"Cool. I'll bring over a couple of movies or something."
Amy smiled. "Thanks Nick," she said.
"No problem," Nick replied, "What are friends for?"

The doorbell rang. Nick was standing there with some movies, and a pint of Rocky Road ice cream. He was so sweet. "I don't need any ice cream," she said, "I'll get fat."
"You're not fat," he said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.
"Oh, I know you," Amy said, "You're just fattening me up so you can eat me."
"Whatever you say Gretel," Nick said. The two of them laughed, as he stepped in the room, and shut the door behind her. Nick really was a good-looking guy. He had sandy blond hair, and a little brown goatee on his chin. He sort of reminded her of Shaggy, from Scooby-Doo, only Shaggy was a lanky guy, and Nick wasn't. He wasn't what you'd call buff, but he definitely had some muscle.
"Here we go," Nick said, as he popped in a DVD, "Thelma and Louise. My sister says it's a great chick flick, so I figured you'd probably like it."
"Thanks," Amy said.

The house was empty now. The movie was over, Nick had gone home, after asking again and again if she was all right. She'd finally convinced him that she was, and he'd headed home. An empty pint of ice cream lay on the table. But Amy was still thinking about Brian. Damn him. She decided to go for a walk. Maybe that would help her clear her head. She slipped on some shoes, and went outside. It was getting dark, and the warm spring wind was beginning to cool. Amy just let her mind wander, thinking about anything and everything. But in the end, it always came back to Brian. She sat down, on the cold concrete steps of a house, and started to cry. It wasn't long before she heard a voice, next to her?
"What's the matter?" It said. She looked up, startled. A man sat next to her. He was only slightly older than her, around twenty or twenty-one, she guessed.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said.
"Don't worry about it," he replied, "Why don't you come inside and dry your tears? I'll grab you something to drink, too." She looked at him suspiciously.
"Oh, don't worry about it," he said, "I'm not gonna try anything funny."
"Well, ok," she said. He opened the door for her, and she stepped inside. It was a quaint little place, tastefully decorated, but obviously a guy's apartment. Over in the corner, draped over the chair was a windbreaker. On the back was a logo depicting a smiling man with a waxed mustache on it. Above it were the words "Papa Alfredo's Gourmet Pizza". Amy snickered at the name.
"What's-a the matter, you no like-a Papa Alfredo's?" The guy said, in a perfect Italian accent. She laughed, and he grinned at her. "Hang on," he said, "I'll get you something to drink."

She realized something then. He was absolutely gorgeous. He had spiky platinum hair, and a black goatee that traced its way down the middle of his chin. He was wearing a tight black shirt, and tight black leather pants, which showed off his ass quite nicely, she thought. She kind of wished he would try something funny. He returned, causing her to avert her gaze. He held to glasses of fizzing soda. "I hope Diet Pepsi is ok."
"Yeah that's fine," she said.
"Great," he said, "So, what's going on? You look pretty upset."
"My boyfriend broke up with me for this girl in one of his classes," she said.
"That bastard," he said, though not angrily.
"Yeah, I'll say," she replied, staring down at the bubbles in her soda. She looked up at him. By the way, I'm Amy, she said, holding out her hand. "Oh, yeah, how rude of me. You can call me Djinn.
"Djinn?" she echoed.
"Yeah, that's sort of my nickname," he replied.
"Interesting nickname," she replied, "how'd you get it?"
"Oh, it's a long story," Djinn laughed.
"Oh," she said. They sat in silence for a while. "I dunno, she said, "I guess I'd give just about anything to have a guy all in love with me again."
"I see," he said. He stood suddenly, and went into his room. "I may have just the thing for you, he said. He returned, and tossed a small object to her, which she caught. She looked down at he small glass tube in her hand.
"Lip-gloss?" Amy said, surprised, "Are you saying my lips are chapped?"
"It's not lip-gloss," he said.
"Well what is it?"
"You'd think I was crazy if I told you," Djinn replied.
"Well, considering you seem to be telling me that I need lip-gloss to get a guy, I already think you're kinda crazy."
Djinn paused. "Good point," he said. "Alright, it goes like this. Put it on your lips, and kiss your victim on the cheek. This will cause them to fall in love with you. It works once per application." Amy stared at him.
"I knew you wouldn't believe me," Djinn lamented.
"No, can't say that I do. But, let's suppose it's true. Suppose it really can do what you say. Why would you give it to me?"
"Because I want to see you happy," Djinn replied.
"Uh-huh," Amy said.
"Why are people always so distrustful of good deeds?" Djinn sighed.
"There's no such thing as a free lunch," Amy shot back. She stood up.
"Well, I'm going to get going." She held out the glass tube.
"Keep it," Djinn said, "maybe you'll find a use for it someday."
"Alright, fine," Amy said, putting it in her pocket.
"Bye," Djinn said, as she walked out the door, "Hope I helped."


Amy forgot about the lipstick for a few days, until one night when she and Nick were watching movies. For some reason she thought of it. She looked over at it, sitting on the end table, next to the lamp, then over at Nick, who was engrossed in the movie. It was, after all, an action flick. One thing she knew, Nick didn't have any feelings for her. She had tried to get his attention when they first met but it hadn't worked. Gradually they had become friends. So Amy decided to do a little test. He wouldn't react too much if she planted a kiss on his cheek. She twisted off the top of the little applicator, and rubbed it across her lips. It was warm, and it kind of tingled. She leaned over and gently kissed him on the cheek. For a moment, nothing happened. Nick looked over at her. Suddenly, his pupils dilated, and his breathing became heavy. Amy put her arm around him, and could feel his heart racing. "Are you ok?" she asked worriedly.
"I'm fine," he said, his voice shaking. He gave her a nervous grin. Then he leaned over, and kissed her quickly on the lips. Amy jumped, startled. "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to scare you."
"It's ok," she whispered, still shocked.
They sat awkwardly for a moment. "Well, I should go," Nick said suddenly, jumping up and headed for the door. Amy got up, and followed. She opened the door to see him heading out to his car.
"Nick, wait!" she said. He stopped and turned around.
"I'm really sorry," he said again.
"Nick... it's ok," she replied. She smiled at him.
"Ok," he said flashing her a crooked grin. Then he left. Jeez, she thought to herself, men can be such idiots when they fall in love.

The next day at school, Amy stopped by her locker to get her math book. She opened it to find it filled with flowers. There was a little card.

To Amy
Love, A Secret Admirer

Amy looked around, at the other girls, some of whom were practically green with envy. She smiled to herself, as she gathered the flowers up, smelling their perfume. Maybe this wasn't too bad. But it was.

The next day, she got more flowers from Nick. And the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that. Amy was starting to get scared. She got home one night, and called Nick. "I think you should come over, Nick," she said to him. Nick showed up about fifteen minutes later. When Amy opened the door, she was assaulted by a barrage of cologne. And Nick never wore cologne. That's another thing guys do when they're in love, she reflected. They wear too much cologne. She invited him in, and sat down on the couch. "Nick, this has to stop," she said finally. Nick looked hurt.
"What do you mean?" he said.
"I mean the flowers, the little love notes, everything. We're just friends," she replied softly.
"But… when you said it was ok that I kissed you, I thought that…" Nick trailed off.
"It was ok that you kissed me, Nick," she said, "but that doesn't mean that we're an item, or that we ever will be. I'm sorry. I just want to be friends." Nick looked at her, and she thought for a moment that he was going to cry. He looked down at the ground, blinking rapidly, then jumped up, and left. "Nick!" she called after him. But it was too late. He was gone. Amy sat down on the steps and started to cry.

The next day Amy drove to school, hoping everything was ok with her and Nick. God, she didn't want to lose his friendship. She stepped out of the car and headed for her first hour class. As class started, a police officer came into the classroom. He whispered quietly to the teacher. She nodded.
"Amy, could you please follow me to the principal's office?" the officer said. Trembling, Amy got up, and followed him. Mr. Underhill, the principal greeted her as she came in, and offered her a chair.
"What's this about?" Amy said nervously. "I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but Nick Carroll committed suicide last night. I'm sorry. I know what good friends you two were."
"Oh God," Amy said. Then she began crying, huge sobs wracking her body. The officer put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Finally she was too exhausted to cry any longer. The officer presented her with a Styrofoam cup filled with water, and a box of Kleenex.
"I'm really sorry about this, ma'am," he said, "but we just need to know if you had any idea why he might have done this."
"It's my fault," she said sniffling, "He wanted to start dating me, but I didn't want to. I finally confronted him, and told him that I didn't want a relationship. He was really upset when he left my house."
"I see," the officer said, "well, I'm sorry that I had to put you through this."
"It's ok," she said.
"Why don't you take the rest of the day off?" Mr. Underhill offered. She gratefully accepted. The officer escorted her home, and she watched from the window as he drove off.
"This is all my fault she moaned," as she fought back the tears again, "me and that damn lip-gloss…"

That's it! Amy was on her feet and out the door. She ran down the street, took several turns, and finally found what she was looking for. Djinn's house. 776 Parker Ave. She ran up the steps, and pounded on the door. Djinn, wrapped only in a towel opened the door.
"Well, hello Amy!" he said brightly, "How are you doing today?"
"You son of a bitch!" Amy screamed, flying at him. He dodged artfully out of the way only infuriating her. She came at him again, screaming more obscenities. Finally Djinn had had enough.
"Shut up, Amy. I don't want to have to hit you." Amy managed to calm down.
"So you're here about Nick, I'm assuming," he said innocently.
"Of course I am! Why the hell else would I be here?!"
"Well you never know," he replied.
"You killed him, you fucker!" she yelled. He gazed at her intently.
"I did? How did I kill him?"
"That damn lip-gloss!" she yelled.
"Why do you keep calling it lip-gloss?" Djinn said, annoyed, "I told you it's not lip-gloss, but you keep calling it that."
"Look!" Amy shouted, "I didn't come here to get in an argument about what that shit's called!"
"You came to make me pay for killing Nick?" he finished for her.
"Yes. You knew what that lip-gloss would do," she said, emphasizing the word lip-gloss, which caused Djinn to scowl, "but you gave it to me anyway. You didn't explain that this would happen!"
"Hold on there, killer," Djinn said, "you're getting mad at me because it did what I told you it would do? That doesn't make any sense."
"You killed Nick!"
"No I didn't," Djinn replied, "I've never even met the man. He committed suicide. I didn't touch him. He pulled the trigger."
"You influenced him to commit suicide," Amy replied acidly.
"No I didn't," Djinn said offendedly, "In fact," he continued, "If you want to get into the finger pointing game, YOU were the only one who influenced him. You killed him. Sure, I gave you the lipstick, but I didn't know how you would use it. You have no one to blame but yourself." Amy sank dejectedly in the chair. Then her face lit up.
"Bring him back then!" she said. "You can make people fall in love, you must be able to bring them back!"
"Oh no you don't!" Djinn said, "That is way too much work!"
"So you can do it!" she said.
"Yes, but I'm not going to," was Djinn's reply.
"What? You have to!"
"I don't have to do anything!" Djinn said, "Besides, resurrecting people is not an easy task. I'm not Jesus. I can't just wave my hands over people, cue the angelic chorus, and bring them back. I'd have to give a false memory of today to everyone who knows that he's dead, which is a good quarter of the city. That's a lot of work."
"Please," Amy said, "I'll do anything."
Djinn crossed his arms over his chest. "Nope," he said, "This was your fault. I'm not doing it."
"Please," Amy said again. She moved next to him, and began to unbutton his pants. Djinn looked down, surprised.
"Stop that!" he said. Amy looked up at him.
"Fine," he said, buttoning his pants, "Fine! Since you managed to screw up almost instantly, I'll bring Nick back, and give you another chance. But I am not happy about this." He looked over at her. "I have half a mind to make him gay. That might keep you out of trouble."
Amy's eyes went wide.
"You better not!" she shouted.
"Oh, I'm just kidding!" Djinn yelled, rolling his eyes.
"Oh, sorry," Amy said.
"Now listen," Djinn said, ignoring her, "He'll show up at your house, probably in a couple of days. He'll be kind of disoriented. Oh, and this whole suicide thing will be a nightmare that he had, but he'll forget it. Just so you know."
"Ok," Amy said, "and… thanks."
"Yeah. Well, it's gonna cost you. I'll figure something out, not much, just a little something."
"Ok," Amy said. And then she left.

Sure enough, Nick showed up at her door three days later. "How ya doin?" Amy asked, trying to act casual.
"Ah, I've been sick as hell the past couple of days," he replied, absentmindedly scratching the back of his head. "Had a dream the other night, too. Dreamt that I killed myself."
"That's horrible!" Amy said, looking shocked.
"Ah, it's ok," he said, "it was just a dream, after all." She could practically hear Djinn laughing.

Amy went in to take a shower. She let the warm water loosen up her tired muscles, and let her mind wander. After she'd been in for about twenty minutes she got out, turned the shower off, and began to dry herself off with her favorite towel. It was a huge purple towel that she'd gotten as a kid. She'd always liked it, because it had been big enough to cover her completely, so that she wouldn't get cold when she climbed out of the tub. It was still big, even now, a good ten years later.

She walked over to the mirror, and jumped in surprise. Someone had drawn an evilly grinning smiley-face in the steam on her mirror. Djinn. She wiped away the steam with her hand. Standing behind her was Djinn, grinning like the face he had drawn on her mirror. She whirled around. No one there. She turned back around. No reflection. Why don't you just show yourself?" she yelled. No answer. She started to pick up her hairbrush.
"Ok, if you insist," a voice said. She screamed, and whipped around again. Djinn was standing there.
"You bastard!" she yelled.
"What?" Djinn said, acting offended, "I did what you told me to!" Amy sighed. Then she noticed Djinn was now sporting a beautiful leather jacket, the hung down to the backs of his knees.
"Where'd you get the jacket?" she asked.
Djinn grinned.
"Used your credit card."
"What?!" Amy shrieked.
"It told you it was gonna cost you to bring Nick back."
"You said it would cost me 'a little something' a leather jacket is NOT a little something! That's a very big something, in fact!" Djinn looked at her.
"Fine," he said, "I'll go return it, and arrange for Nick to be murdered."
"No!" Amy screamed.
"Oh, so you're ok with this little something?"
"You are so goddamn frustrating!" she yelled.
Djinn shrugged. "It's what I do best."
"Couldn't you have just conjured yourself one?" she asked.
"Yes, I could have," Djinn said, "but I'm all worn out from conjuring your secret admirer back to life, and removing your ill-advised kiss of death from his memory. Consider this a $200 dollar idiot fee." Amy rolled her eyes.
"Ok, fine Djinn," she said.
"I knew you'd see it my way," Djinn laughed.

The lipstick sat unused on top of her dresser for a few months. But it began calling to her again. Amy still couldn't get a date to save her life. Brian was still making his rounds with all the girls he could get his hands on. Finally, Amy could stand it no longer. She put on her lip-gloss, and kissed Mark, the captain of the football team. She was the talk of the school for the next week. Who was this girl who had stolen the heart of the captain of the football team, and made him dump his gorgeous cheerleader girlfriend? Once again, it was fun for a while, what with having a man who had ignored Amy now humiliating himself for her, but once again, it got out of hand. He had no will of his own, Amy reflected. If she wanted to go to a movie, he instantly agreed. She could name off any movie, it didn't matter what. Once, when he asked her what she wanted to do, she had said she wanted to head out to the garbage dump, and take a tour of it, just as a joke. He agreed instantly. Then one night they were at home, snuggling in the couch, and things got a little out of hand. Amy told Mark to stop. Mark didn't stop. So Mark got swiftly kicked in the groin, and thrown out of the house.

The next day at school, one of Mark's friends angrily confronted her.
"How could you be so mean?" he said, "He would have done anything for you, and you just dumped him. We had to talk him out of killing himself."
"It's not my fault," Amy said, "He went to far, so I kicked him out. What did he expect?" It occurred to Amy that she sounded like Djinn.
"But you didn't even give him a chance to apologize!" the man said. Amy turned, and started to walk away. "Don't know what he saw in an ugly bitch like you anyway," the guy said. Amy turned, furious. Then an idea entered her head.
"But you don't think I'm ugly, do you Todd?" she said. Todd looked surprised.
"What?" he said.
"Do you think I'm ugly?" Amy said, as she casually applied some lip-gloss. Todd was about to respond when she grabbed him by the shirt, yanked him forward, and kissed him full on the lips. Todd staggered backwards, looking as if she had hit him instead of kissing him. "Well, Todd, do you think I'm ugly?"
"No… no, of course not," Todd stammered, "I-I'm so sorry about all those things I said to you."
"I'll bet you are," Amy said.
"No really, I'm sorry. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?"
"No," Amy said, "now go away." Poor Todd sat down against a wall and started to cry. Jeez, the poor guy, Amy thought, I really hurt his feelings. That didn't seem like as much fun as I thought it would. Panicking, she ran away.

She ran to Djinn's house, and knocked on the door. To her surprise, and old man opened the door.
"May I help you?" he asked.
"Uh, is Djinn there?" she asked, flustered.
"No, I'm sorry," he said, "No one by that name lives here."
"Ok, I must have the wrong address," she mumbled, and ran off.

Eventually the whole ruckus at school died down. When it did, Amy met the most incredible man. His name was Doug. He was in her art class. He always sat quietly by himself. One day she asked to see his drawings. They were beautiful.
"You have a lot of knowledge about the human anatomy," she said to him. "Thanks," he replied. She asked him out to coffee, but he refused. She kept pining away for him, day after day, but he would have nothing to do with her. So, once again, an idea entered her head. So, one day she went to school with her lip-gloss in her pocket. She got a date with him, for that night. Unlike the others, he was polite, and calm, and very romantic. He took her out to dinner at a fancy restaurant, and they had a great conversation. They started seeing each other. He drew her naked, she drew him naked, they made love. And so it went. But it came to pass that Amy found out how he could afford to buy her nice things and take her out to dinner. He was pawning his things. He had stopped drawing altogether. All his attention was focused on her. One night, they were lying together on the couch.
"Doug, we can't keep seeing each other," she finally said. He looked at her, startled.
"Why do you say that?" he said concernedly.
"You've been pawning your things to take me to the movies, you never draw at all anymore… I'm just not good for you. You need your art."
"No, I need you," he said.
"I'm sorry, Doug," she said, "perhaps you'll realize that this is for the best in time." She got up to leave.
"No!" Doug said, "Please don't go Amy! I need you!… I love you!" But she was gone, hurrying out to her car, trying not to cry. This can't be happening, Doug thought. It can't be happening.

"I'm so glad you changed your mind," Doug said to Amy, as he carried her to his couch downstairs.
"Me too," Amy said, as she rested her head on his chest and gazed into his eyes,
"I guess I just overreacted." He sat down on the couch, and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
"Don't worry about it, we all do it," He said, "I'm just glad to have you back."
"I know," Amy said, giving him a peck on the cheek, "I'm glad to have you back too." Of course, Amy wasn't really saying any of this. Amy was dead. But Doug couldn't see the vicious gash across her throat, or see her eyes rolling back in her head. Because to his schizophrenic mind, she was alive. He hugged her tightly. All was right in the world for Doug. Because he was in love.


Epilogue

Nick sat in the computer lab. His eyes were red and puffy from crying. This couldn't be happening. Amy couldn't be dead. His mind was still reeling from the shock.
"Sorry to hear about what happened to Amy," the man next to him said.
"Thanks," he replied, as he gratefully took a Kleenex from the man.
"Oh, I should introduce myself," Nick said. He held out his hand. "I'm Nick."
The man shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, Nick," he said, "Hey, you know, maybe I can help you." And then Djinn smiled.

THE END

The Last One Left

The Last One Left

by Lithopedion

Everyone in the world was dead by the time Seth Cain woke up. But he didn't know that. So he groggily jumped in the shower, used the bathroom, and shaved, then put on his Burger World uniform, still dirty from the past two days. Oh well, it was Friday. He had the weekend off, for once. He snagged himself a breakfast bar, and headed out to his car. It was quiet, but he didn't really think anything of it. However, on the way to work, he began to sense that something was wrong. There was no traffic. Cars were lined up on either side of the residential streets like clothes set out the night before that never got worn. He pulled in to the parking lot at work, staring around in growing alarm at the empty parking lot. The doors were locked, and the lights off. So he drove home. He went to the next door neighbor's house, but there was no answer. So he tried calling his mom. Nothing. His best friend. Nothing. His sister. Once again, nothing. He dialed 911. No answer.
"What the fuck?" he murmured to himself. No answer from 911? What the hell was going on here? Then an idea came to him. There was a military base across town. That would be the place to look. So he sped over to it, half wishing a cop would pull him over. There was no guard on duty at the gates, so he drove in. The base looked as dead as the rest of town. "Jesus," Seth breathed. There were missile silos on this base. If this wasn't guarded, then nothing would be. Nothing... Slowly, he began to piece it together. Somehow, everyone had disappeared. Seth began to sweat, and felt on the verge of hyperventilating. Ok, get a hold of yourself, he thought.
He walked up to an empty army jeep, and an idea struck him. He dug around in the back and found a crowbar. The he put the car in neutral, and wedged the crowbar in place on top of the gas pedal. The engine roared loudly, as Seth, standing off to one side, shifted it into drive, and jumped out of the way. The jeep tore across the street, across the grass on the other side, and smashed into a building. Seth felt the heat, as it exploded into a huge fireball. If there was anyone around, that would get their attention. But the only response was the gentle whooshing of the wind. Damn, Seth thought, if I can get away with that, I can get away with... anything. I can get away with anything. He smiled to himself.
Seth found another car with keys in it, and drove off of the base. As he was driving, he spotted a gorgeous, brand new Lexus sitting in a driveway. He pulled off the road, purposely sideswiping nearby cars. It was harmless, and actually kinda fun. Not like he had to worry about insurance anyway. He got out and walked over to it. No keys. He kicked open the front door of the house, and rummaged through it. It was dirty, food and clothes scattered around the place. Obviously a bachelor pad, he thought. On the couch was a tiny amount of white dust. Although Seth didn't realize it, that small pile of dust was the car's owner. Various posters were tacked up on the walls, mostly rappers or drug-related pictures, a few of naked women too. Seth kept looking, and finally found the keys. He turned to leave, but stopped. Not yet. Let's see what else is in the house. He looked through the closets, and under the beds, taking his time. Not like the owner would interrupt him. He opened one closet, and saw a large black garbage bag. He opened it, and his eyes went wide. Inside were huge bricks of marijuana. Seth had only ever even seen weed once, and it wasn't very much, at that. But this... this must be worth tons. Well, not anymore. Seth laughed.
"No wonder you could afford a Lexus," he said to the empty room around him. A sudden idea hit him. Why not take it? What, were the police going to arrest him? There were none. There were no drug dealers either. Nor was there a Religious Right. In fact, now that he thought about it, who was to say it was illegal? The government? What government? The only person still alive was him, so if he decided it was legal, who was to say it wasn't? And Seth had already decided that it was very legal. And since there was no one to argue that point with him, it was. Seth picked up the garbage bag, barely able to lift it, and lugged it out to the front seat of the car. He chuckled at the hilarity of hauling a good hundred and fifty pounds of weed around in the middle of a suburban neighborhood in broad daylight. Another search of the house turned up a pipe and a bong, both of which Seth took.
Seth cruised down the highway at ninety miles an hour, dizzy from the effects of the marijuana. It was incredibly strong, he'd only smoked it once when he was seventeen, so he had no tolerance built up for it. There were empty cars on the road in some places, he swerved around them, or weaved through them. He passed through another town, and decided he needed some food, and maybe some tunes while he was at it. He walked into a store, and tore down the aisles, throwing food around, and making a general mess. He walked out of the store with several bags of food, the name brand stuff, not the cheap copycat shit he'd always had to buy. No Ramen Noodles, no cans of spaghetti, he was going for class. On a whim he opened the cash register, and took all the money, just for the hell of it. He smiled and waved at the camera. This was legal too. After loading everything in the car he noticed an electronics store, next door. He walked in, and browsed through the CDs. He ran into the grocery store, and came back out with a garbage bag, which he began to fill with CDs. Rap, Jazz, Rock, Classical, whatever. If he didn't like 'em, he'd toss 'em.
Seth returned for another look around after lugging the CDs out to the back seat of the car. All the computers were on, flickering brightly. Seth sighed. He'd always wanted a nice laptop... Then he grinned. Well, now he had one. Actually, why just one? Three or four. Not like they'd be missed. Seth walked out of the store carrying well over seven thousand dollars in laptops and accessories, including a digital camera. Why not? Might as well record all this for prosperity. You know, to pass on to future generations. Seth laughed at that. Future generations. Funny. Back out on the road, Seth looked through the glove compartment. A shiny metal object thunked down as he opened it up, and Seth realized it was a 9mm semi-automatic pistol. There was a knife too, which he pocketed. He picked up the gun and looked at it. Good. Even more fun. Seth took to shooting out car windows as he passed by them. He briefly considered using it on himself, maybe just getting the inevitable over with, but then decided against it. He was still having fun. He could always do it later, if he ever ran out of things to do. But that probably wouldn't be for a long long time.
In the distance, skyscrapers rose up out of the horizon. Very cool, Seth thought. He'd always liked skyscrapers. Marvels of modern architecture. There were none where he lived. Eventually, as he got closer they began to loom over him, so tall he couldn't even see the tops of them, at least not while he was in the car. It brought back memories of when he was little. He'd be on vacation, with his parents, and they'd pass through a city. His mom would reach back and nudge him awake. "Look at the skyscrapers, honey," she'd say. She knew he liked them. He would press his little nose up against the window, trying looking at those big, shiny buildings, trying to see how far up they went, sometimes for hours, depending on how big the city was, or how much of a hurry dad was to get where they were going. Or how lost he was.
Seth pulled over and walked up to one. He'd always wondered what they were like inside. It was clean and professional looking inside. Obviously offices of some sort. Kind of boring looking actually. Seth stepped onto the elevator, and pushed the button for the top floor. Let's see what things are like from the boss's office. The elevator jumped, and began to rise, giving him that roller-coaster feeling in his stomach. He laughed at the muzak playing in the elevator. All human life extinguished, and what remains? Muzak. The soundtrack of the apocalypse. At the top, the elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Seth walked out and into the office. He went past the receptionist's desk, and a gurgling fountain, into the office. Behind the enormous desk was a huge picture window, which made up the entire rear wall. The view was nothing short of stunning. Little specks of cars dotted the streets below, as other skyscrapers lorded over them, gods looking down on their subjects. The setting sun displayed brilliant rays of orange as it began to sink beneath the horizon. Seth sat down in the cushy black chair, and watched the sun set.
The next morning Seth sat up, he looked around, surprised at his surroundings. He'd thought he was home in bed. "Oh, yeah, that's right," he mumbled to himself, "I'm the last one left on earth." He shuffled over to the elevator, rubbing his eyes, and got in, pushing the button for the ground floor. "Gee, I left my Lexus unlocked," he said to himself, "I hope no one stole it." Outside he smoked some weed on the hood of his car, and gazed around the city. It was so peaceful. No one running around in rush to get here or there, no traffic, no violence, no one dying. Funny to think of, but yesterday was probably the first day in the history of humankind where no one had died. Interesting.
Seth drove out to a gas station, where he filled his car up. "Free Gas Day," he chuckled to himself, "it's about time." After that, he drove the wrong way down a one way street, still smoking copious amounts of weed. Then another devilish little idea hit him. He stopped the car and got out, where he proceeded to jerk off in the middle of the street, smoking a joint at the same time. God damn, what a rush. Jacking off in the middle of a street while smoking a joint, standing next to a stolen car overflowing with hundreds of pounds of illegal substances and stolen goods? He had to be the first person in history to do this. My own little niche, he thought. Well, besides being the only person in the world to live past Thursday. But that was sort of by default. God, he would've been locked up for a thousand years if he'd done this shit last week. Not anymore though. Now he made the rules. He got in the car again, and continued driving down the street. A few minutes later, he passed by a large stone building. It was a museum. He stopped the car and ran up the stairs. Why not check it out? It's not like he had any pressing engagements. The door was locked, so he kicked through the glass. As the glass sprayed everywhere an alarm went off. Seth crept inside, and walked down the hall, until he found the security station. He went in, and pushed buttons and switches until he found the one that shut the alarm off. Then he walked through the museum, smashing displays so he could get an up close and personal tour of the treasures of ancient Egypt, Norway, China, and so on. He found a set of ancient coins worth over 5 million dollars, according to the display beneath them. "I'll take those," he said, smashing the glass case. Free Ancient Artifact Day too, huh? What luck!
Seth spent the day in the museum, learning about everything he could get his hands on. He left feeling smarter than he had in a long time. Sort of ironic that he was interested in learning about history now that it had come to a halt. The next day was spent in a bookstore, as were a few of the following days. When he wasn't reading books, he was listening to his new CDs, tossing the ones he didn't like down the stairs, playing Frisbee with them, melting them or some such thing. Just for fun, he figured out how to work the machines in the store's coffee shop, and made himself every kind of drink they had on the menu, until he was shaking from all the caffeine. It made him laugh. What a sight he must be. In the weeks that followed, Seth drove all over the city, learning how to do anything he could get his hands on. He even found some training videos, and learned how to fly a helicopter, albeit not very well. He didn't do too much with it, as he was scared of crashing, but still, it was quite an experience, even if all he did was get it off the ground and set it back down.
As he was driving one day, Seth came across a huge cathedral, that seemed to dominate the buildings around it. Intrigued, he went inside. The sanctuary was huge and silent, the stained-glass figures in the windows seeming to watch him. He walked down the pathway between the empty pews, and came to the altar. He felt a sense of awe standing before it, as though their was a presence all around him. It had been a long, long time since he'd been face-to-face with God. If there was one. An interesting realization came to Seth, as he stood there. If he did not believe in God, then all belief in God died out, and God essentially did not exist. If he stopped believing, God was dead. A feeling of near euphoria came over him. It was like he held God in the palm of his hand. Like he was God Himself.
A sound startled him, and he looked over at the source of the sound, then stood in mute shock as he saw it. Standing before him was another human being. She was a beautiful girl, with a slender body, and crystalline green eyes, that seemed to stare right through him. "Oh my God," he whispered, "how did you live? Is there anyone else?" She shook her head.
"I don't know how I lived," she said, "I woke up one morning and everyone was gone. You're the first other person I've seen. I think it's just you and I."
"Damn," Seth breathed.
"Well, we might as well hang out for awhile," she said. Seth laughed, and nodded. "I'm sure we could find something to talk about."
"Let's start with names," she replied, smiling.
"Seth," Seth said, sticking out his hand, "and you are?"
The girl grasped his hand and shook it firmly. "Mariella."
They walked outside, as a light breeze wound its way through the city. Mariella pointed to the Lexus. "Your car?" she said.
"Uh, yeah," Seth said, suddenly embarrassed about the stolen and illegal goods piled up in the back.
She simply nodded. "Guess there's no room," she said, "we'll just walk." Seth said nothing. They walked over to Seth's bookstore where he made her a drink. He cringed inwardly at the sight of the place. It looked like a tornado had hit it. Just great. Oh well, too late to do anything about it now. However, Seth soon forgot about it, as they began chatting. They talked long into the night, about music, movies, what they had wanted to be when they grew up. Anything and everything was subject to conversation that night. Eventually, Mariella stood and yawned, stretching her arms in the air, which, Seth couldn't help but notice, caused her breasts to shift up and squeeze together. He gave a slight smile. He'd forgotten all about those. Still, he wasn't going to try to sleep with her. It still felt awkward. Even if she was the last person on earth, he still hardly knew her. Perhaps someday. It's not like she could meet someone else. "I should get some sleep," she said, between yawns. "You can sleep anywhere you'd like," Seth said, gesturing around the store, "there's some super comfy couches on the third floor. Mariella looked at him for a moment. "Thanks, but no thanks, Seth," she said, "I think I should sleep somewhere else." "What's the matter?" Seth asked. He frowned as the realization dawned on him. "Look, Mariella, I'm not some psycho rapist or anything," he said, "I would never do something like that."
"I know," she said, "but I just don't want to... put the temptation in front of you, that's all." "Don't you believe me?" Seth asked.
"I can't afford to believe you," she said, "I'm sorry, Seth, but look at from my point of view. I'm not rejecting you, I just can't afford to take that chance. I mean, if you wanted to rape me, who would stop you? I couldn't, that's for sure." Seth sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair.
"You're right," he said, "I'm sorry I got all offended there. I'm not used to being around the only woman left in the world." Mariella smiled.
"I know. I'm not used to being around the only man. I'll see you tomorrow, Seth."
"I don't know," Seth said, "I have some appointments to take care of, but I'll see if I can fit you into my schedule." Mariella laughed. She had a musical laugh. Seth grinned. He hadn't heard anyone laugh in weeks. "See you tomorrow," he said.
"Bye." Mariella waved, and then was gone. Seth realized then that he had a persistent erection, and realized he hadn't had one for a long time. He'd sort of adapted to not thinking about sex. Seth sat around for awhile, but the erection would not go away. He went upstairs to the bathrooms, and masturbated, all the while thinking about the way Mariella's hips swayed when she walked. God, he thought as he pulled up his pants, she was right. Maybe it's a good thing she hadn't stayed, at least not until he was comfortable dealing with these sorts of emotions again. The end of the world can do strange things to a man, he reflected. Seth looked up in the mirror, and was taken aback. He practically had a beard, and was grimy, and wild-haired. He looked half-crazy like one of those survivalist types. All he was missing was the camo gear and anti-government propaganda. Seth chuckled at the mental image that gave him. Mariella, on the other hand, was clean and neat. Hell, she still shaved her legs, and fixed her hair. No wonder she hadn't wanted to spend the night there. He did look like some crazy rapist. He probably stunk, too. Seth sighed. He ought to do something about that.

Mariella came over the next day, where Seth had some breakfast waiting. She came in, and gasped when she saw him.
"Very nice," she said, smiling. Seth was clean shaven, bathed and had trimmed his hair down to one inch with a trimmer he had taken from a nearby supermarket.
"Thanks," he replied, beaming, "Oh, by the way, I have something for you." He reached into his pocket, and pulled out the pistol, handing it to her. She looked up at him quizzically. "I thought it might make you feel safer to have it," he said, "Just in case, you, know?" Mariella hugged him. "Thanks, hun," she said, "that was sweet of you." Seth just smiled.
They ate breakfast and chatted amiably some more. "I'm sorry about last night," Mariella said. "Huh? Oh, that's no problem," Seth said, between bite of a roll. "No it isn't," Mariella said, "You were a perfect gentleman all day, and I just repaid you with mistrust. If you had wanted to rape me, you would have."
"Well, I'm sorry too," Seth said, "it was wrong of me to be so upset with you. You were right after all, it's been kind of weird dealing with the old emotions you're bringing up."
"Well, you aren't the only one," Mariella replied, "I guess that's the main reason I left last night."
"Ah, let's let bygones be bygones," Seth said. "Agreed," Mariella replied, revealing her beautiful white smile.
A little while later, Seth pulled out a joint, and lit it. "Uh, I'm sorry, but could you not do that?" Mariella asked. Seth stubbed it out. "Sorry," she said, "I guess it's the way I was raised, but I still have a hard time feeling comfortable around that sorta thing."
"No problem," Seth said. As an afterthought he added, "I was that way too, up until the end of the world as we know it."
"Well, it may be the end of the world as we know it," Mariella said, "but I feel fine." They both began to laugh.
"That was bad," Seth said.
"Oh yeah?" Mariella replied, "then why don't you go listen to someone funnier?"
"Guess I'll start talkin' to myself then," Seth replied. Then he grinned. Mariella threw a roll at him.
"You bastard," she laughed.
"Oh, it's a food fight is it?" Seth said. He grabbed a roll of his own, and threw it at her. They both began laughing as it became a full scale food fight, then Seth tackled her, to rub some food in her face. But they both stopped and stared into each other's eyes for a long time. Then she grabbed him, and began top passionately kiss him. Seth responded instantly, and the next thing they knew, they were naked, and making love, right there on the floor.
Seth awoke the next morning, and got out of bed. He took a joint out of his nearby shirt pocket, but then stopped. No... better not. Mariella rolled over and looked up at him, smiling. Seth smiled back. "You wanna go out around town, maybe see some sights?" he said. "No, thanks anyway hun. Everything's changed so much lately, that I just wanna stay in one place for now, sorta make it into a home, you know?" Seth nodded. "Ok." "You can go ahead and go without me though, if you'd like." "No, that's ok," Seth said, "I'd worry about you." He leaned over and kissed her. "Eww," she said, "go brush your teeth, honey." "Alright," Seth said, "I will in a minute."
Mariella got up, and went into the bathroom, with Seth following. He stood behind her, with his arms wrapped around her waist, as she began to come her hair. "I have a question, hun," he said. "What's that?" Mariella asked.
"Do you believe in God?"
She smiled. "Yep. I sure do. That's why I was in the church where you found me. I felt safe there. Why, do you believe in God?"
Seth smiled. "Yep." He caressed her cheek with his hand, and she closed her eyes and smiled.

That's when Seth broke her neck.

She dropped to the floor, dead, never knowing what had hit her. "Sorry, hun," Seth said. He pulled out a joint, lit it, and took a deep hit of marijuana smoke. Good. It made him pleasantly numb. He knelt down by her body and brushed his hand along her cheek. On the countertop was her driver's license. He picked it up. She'd never mentioned her last name, and he was curious. Hmm. No good. Her last name was smudged or something. MARIELLA A---. "Well, Miss A," he said, "now what do we do with you?" As he looked down at her small, pale body, he realized something. He'd never seen a real body before. There were no others. They were all gone. This was an opportunity that would never come again. "Hmm," he said to himself, "I always wanted to learn anatomy."

THE END

Switch

Switch

by Lithopedion


David shut off the incessant static of his alarm clock. It was a radio clock, but the only stations it picked up were country, and the last thing he wanted was to wake up to some tears-in-my-beer cowboy song, which would wind up stuck in his head all day, so he set it to static. He stumbled into the bathroom, wiping the crust out of his eyes, and took a shower. Time for another wonderful day of working at a crappy fast food restaurant. He stepped out of the shower, somewhat more awake, and glanced at his face in the mirror. A little scruffy, but he didn't have time to shave. Work wouldn't care, or if they did, they could go screw themselves. To make matters worse, Ron, his best friend, wouldn't be there. The fucker had left town with David's girlfriend. Hell, he could have the backstabbing bitch. Maybe she'd do the same thing to him. The worst part however, was that Ron owed him three hundred dollars, and David probably couldn't make rent without it. So, here he was, broke, single, and stabbed in the back.
David tied on a pale blue bathrobe, and headed into the kitchen to get some food. He fixed himself a bowl of granola cereal, and took a bite. He began to swallow, but stopped short in shock. A man dressed in black was perched on the table. He was young, probably early twenties, and had pale green eyes, and light skin, with black pants, and a tight sleeveless vest that made it look even lighter. But the most startling thing about him was his shockingly gray spiked hair. The color was even, and went down to the roots. It was natural.
"The hell you doin' in my apartment?" David snapped, through a mouthful of food.
"Now, now David, don't get an attitude," the man said.
"Get the fuck out. How's that for attitude?" David deadpanned.
"Ok," the man said, "if that's the way you want it." He stood and walked to the door. As he stepped outside, he turned to David and smiled. "All the windows closed and locked?" he asked. David glanced around.
"Yup." Then he slammed the door.
"God damn, what a day this is gonna be," he mumbled through a mouthful of granola. He turned and dropped his bowl of cereal. The man was sitting on a chair in the living room, staring at him.
"What the-?" David began.
"Neat trick, huh?" the man said, still smiling.
"Listen David Copperfield, I thought I told you to get out."
"No. I'm afraid not, David. Not til I'm done here."
"Done? Doing what?"
The man sat back in the chair, and smiled. "I'm here to fuck with you. That's all I'm here for. To fuck with you until I open your eyes to what's really going on."
"I see. But I still don't care. Get out."
"Guess you need more convincing," the man said.
"Out!"
The man walked out the door and closed it. David popped another mouthful of granola in his mouth, and flipped on the T.V. to CNN. See what's going on in the world. A woman was blathering on about the weather, about some arctic front that was supposed to come through the state. "Looks like we'll be needing a scarf and mittens by Wednesday," she chirpped, "Now back to you." The screen switched back to the front desk, where the announcer sat. There was the man with gray hair. He smiled. "Thank you Debbie. In local news, David needs to open the goddam door, before I get pissed off, and hurt him badly. David, go open the door, or I will make things much worse. Do it... now." The television turned to static, and David switched it off. He walked to the door, and nervously opened it. The man was standing there. David stood there, nervously chewing his lip for a moment.
"Guess you better come in," he said.
"Smart man."
They walked over to the couch, and sat down.
"I have a feeling I'll be seeing alot of you," David said.
The man laughed. "You've got that right."
"Ok. So, can I at least have your name? Or should I just call you Dude?"
"I should think not. Call me Switch."
"Great. So, Switch, what exactly is it that you want?"
"You'll figure it out."
"Can I at least have a hint?"
Switch adopted a thoughtful posture. "I suppose so. It has to do with your relationship with me."
"Relationship? Dude, we don't have a 'relationship'. I've never met you before in my life."
Switch simply smiled. "You know me. You just don't realize who I am. When you recognize me, you'll know everything."
David sighed. "What the hell does that mean? You've got to give me more than just riddles to go on here." Switch scowled.
"I don't have to give you anything, David. Perhaps you don't understand. I don't care about you. I'm out to get you. That's why I'm fucking with you."
"What is why you're fucking with me?"
Switch grinned. "Because I can."
David met his piercing stare, and leaned forward. "This is going to be a long day, isn't it?"
"The longest day of your life."
David reached over and picked up the phone.
"Whatcha doin'?" Switched asked.
"Figured I better call in to work."
Switch chuckled. "You're a funny one, David. You make me laugh."
David simply gave Switch a withering glare. On the other side of the phone, the manager picked up.
"Hey, Thomas."
"Dave, what's up?"
"Uh- I need to call in from work today."
"Again? This is becoming a habit with you, David."
"I know... but this is important."
"What is?"
"Let's just say an old friend showed up."
"You aren't sick?"
"No."
"Then you can come in to work."
"Thomas, come on..."
"I don't wanna hear it David. You haven't been acting like part of the Burger Palace family lately. You either show up, or you're fired."
"Part of the family? What am I, in the mob? You know I only have this shitty minimum wage job til I can get one that actally pays enough money for me to actually live on. Not that I'll be able to, after you tell any potential job interests that I was a horrible employee. Hell even if I gave you a months notice, you'd say that, nevermind that I've been working there for almost a year, and never gotten a raise. I mean, what the fuck?"
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
"You're not coming in, are you?"
"You're a quick one," David scoffed, "no wonder you're a manager." And he slammed the phone down. Switch laughed. As he did, David quickly opened the drawer on the end table next to him, and took something out, which he quickly shoved in his pocket. "I'm gonna run down to the gas station and grab something to eat," he said.
"Fine," Switch replied, "Do whatever you want."
David jogged out onto the sidewalk. It was misty out, and everything was damp. No sun would be poking out of the overcast sky to dry things out, either. He turned the corner, and headed down the street. At the end of the block sat the gas station. Gulp 'n Go. It was grimy, and in need of a good cleaning, outside as well as in. They oughta fix the goddam potholes in their parking lot while they were at it, David thought angrily. He'd driven through one a few weeks back that had put his tire out of alignment, just a little bit. Now the whole car vibrated when he drove it. He walked inside, and grabbed a few hot dogs, a large drink, and some candy bars. What could he do? Should he call the cops? Nah. Switch would just disappear, and the cops would probably get pissed at him for wasting their time. Maybe he should run. Maybe if he ran far, far away.
"That'll be $7.76, David," the cashier said. David glanced up. There was Switch, dressed in a Gulp 'n Go uniform. He even had on a nametag. David fought the urge to drop everything and run. "$7.76 please," Switch said, perfectly imitating the slightly annoyed tone of voice so many minimum wage employees, including David, seemed to have while they were on the job. David forked over the money.
"What do you want?" he hissed.
"Now David, I'm just checking up on you. You know, to make sure you're ok." David turned and hurried for the door. "Sir, you forgot your change!" Switch shouted, a subtle mocking laughter in his voice. David ignored him. "Thank you for shopping Gulp 'n Go!" The door slammed shut, but David could hear Switch's muffled laughter inside. He hurried back to his house.
He came inside, over to the couch, where Switch was sitting, and sat down.
"You bring me something?" Switch asked. David only glared at him. "That's ok," Switch said, "I didn't ask for anything anyway."
"And if you want something, you can just warp down there and get it yourself," David grumbled.
"I told you not to get an attitude once, David," Switch said, his voice rising just a little, "Don't make me tell you again."
"Why don't you just do what it is you want to do here, and go?" David asked angrily, "Why the hell are you just waiting around?"
"Because I like watching you squirm. Not to mention it will make it so much sweeter when you finally realize what's going on." David stood and began to pace.
"You're really starting to piss me off, Switch," he said. Switch only smiled. "So I guess you're not leaving." Switch shook his head. "Alright then," David mumbled. He turned his back to Switch for a moment, then turned, pulled the gun out of his pocket, and shot Switch twice in the face. Switch's body jerked with each shot, and then lay still. David stared at it in shock for a moment, then put the gun back in the drawer where he had gotten it. Smoke oozed lazily into the air around Switch's head. David rubbed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, Switch's corpse was staring at him. He jumped, and started to back away. Switch inhaled through clenched teeth, which made a sharp hissing sound.
"That was very stupid of you, David," he whispered. He stood, and slowly walked towards David. "I don't recommend that you do that again." He turned, and began to walk away, but then turned and glared back at David over his shoulder. "I'm going to go wash the blood off while my fucking face reconstructs, then I'll be back. That hurts like hell, I might add, but it won't kill me. All it will do is piss me off. I don't think you want that." Then he turned and left the room. David sat down on the couch, his mind racing. What the hell could he do? would the police come? No. He was in a single apartment, far enough away from other houses that no one had heard the gunshot. Why couldn't he get this guy... this thing, to leave? A few minutes later, Switch came back in, and sat down. David was holding the gun again. "What did I tell you?" he said, annoyed. "That you're going to open my eyes for me. That's why you're here," David replied, "that you won't leave til after you open my eyes, but you won't do it. You're happier to just torment me." "So what, David, you're going to shoot me til you're out of bullets? What then? Are you going to start stabbing me with a steak knife?" David smiled. "These bullets aren't for you." And he put the gun to his head. Switch looked surprised for a moment, then regained his (sang-froid?). He smiled. "I'm impressed, David. I never even considered that you might do that." David gave him a brief smile that quickly faded. "Now, open my eyes, or I'll pull the trigger. I know you don't want that." "You're right David, I don't want that. I'll open your eyes then." David put the gun down. "Good," he said. With that, Switch grabbed him by the shirt, and slammed him up against the wall. "So open your eyes!" he screamed, "Open your eyes, David! Open your eyes!" He slapped David across one cheek, then the other, despite David's shocked protests. David tried to run, but Switch grabbed him, putting a hand on either side of David's head, holding him still. "Now open your eyes, David." He relaxed his grip, and his arms fell to his sides. "Open your eyes," he said, "Open your eyes." He kept repeating it over and over again. Open your eyes, open your eyes, open your eyes. As he did, he began to transform, to change, until he looked exactly like David. "Open your eyes, David," he said again, "open your eyes. Then he stopped. And it was then that David realized that Switch had not transformed into a duplicate of David. There was no Switch. David was staring into a mirror.

"Oh, Jesus!" David cried as he stumbled away from the mirror, "Oh my God!" Suddenly, he began to realize something, something horrible. His friend Ron hadn't left town with his girlfriend. David raced towards the basement, opened the door, and raced downstairs. There was Ron, and David's completely faithful girlriend. They were sitting in two wooden chairs, looking at him. But they were dead. His girlfriend's throat had been slashed. But he had poisoned Ron. The poison had caused Ron's muscles to contract post mortem, so his eyes were open, and a horrifying smile was on his face. He seemed to be staring at David. David vomited on the concrete floor, and then raced upstairs. He locked the basement door, and sat down at the table, where his granola cereal had grown soggy, and began to cry. He cried because his best friend and girlfriend were dead, he cried because he had killed them. But most of all, he cried because he didn't know why he'd done it. There had been no reason to. No reason at all. Finally he managed to calm himself down to the point where he wasn't crying, though he felt as though he might hyperventilate. Suddenly, he realized that someone was behind him. Even without turning he knew who it was. It was Ron, with that horrible smile on his face, reaching out for David, reching out to grab him and tear his throat out. But how had he gotten pst the locked basement door? David screamed and whirled around. No one was there. David turned back around, but as soon as he did, he felt Ron behind him, felt the hands reaching out for him. No! he screamed to himself, there's no one there! Oh, but there was. Ron was there. He turned again, and again no one was there. David got up and raced to the corner of the room, sitting with his back in the corner. But it did no good. Ron was a spirit, forever marked with that horrible, unnatural smile, a smile no living human could make. He could come through the walls, through the ground. Meanwhile his body waited in the basement, ever vigilant, waiting for David to let guard down. The realization came to David, what he had to do. He went and fetched the loaded gun. As he picked it up, he looked down at it, wishing he had pulled the trigger when he'd had it to his head. He sat down at the kitchen table, and began to write, trying to ignore Ron's hands reaching for him.


"So what've we got here?" Officer Alan Shelton asked. One of the officers at the scene pointed to the body. "We have a Mr. David Bransen here," he said, "it was easy enough to ID him, because he set his driver's license and social security card next to him. His landlord confirmed that he lived here. Guess he knew we'd be coming." "I see," Alan said, "he leave a note?"
"Yeah," the man showed him a piece of yellow legal pad paper, in a plastic bag. He apologizes for killing the two people in the basement, says he doesn't know why he did it, that he didn't mean to. He says that he killed himself because the guilt was driving him insane, that things could never be right again. He also left the full names, numbers, and adresses of the two people in the basement, not to mention how to get in contact with their families." Alan took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. Killed em and left information on how to contact their families. Not your average double homicide. He turned back to the officer.
"So did the ID's for the bodies check out?" The officer looked up at him, an odd look on his face.
"That's just the thing," he said, "there's no one down there. The basement is empty."
Schizophrenic, Alan thought. He looked down at the body, slumped at the kitchen table. "Poor kid," he whispered.

Hazel Eyes

Hazel Eyes

by Lithopedion

James sat on the edge of his bed, staring down at the small, felt case sitting in the palm of his hand, with his unusually piercing hazel eyes. It felt heavy, very heavy. He wondered how he would go through with this. He was scared, but elated too. He flipped the case open. Inside sat the amethyst ring. I love you, Evelyn was engraved inside the band of the ring. It was perfect, he thought. He'd found the amethyst in the rough when he was about ten years old. It was the only thing he'd ever found that was worth keeping. That and you, Evelyn, he thought, smiling. When he'd asked Evelyn what her favorite gemstone was and she had said amethyst, he'd been thrilled. It was like fate, like God was giving him the go ahead to ask for her hand. Three more weeks. He'd checked with his roommates who'd assured him they'd be out of the house the night that he'd ask her to come over and watch movies. She'd open the door to find a trail of rose petals up to the bedroom, where he'd sing her a song he'd written for her (he'd learned how to play the guitar for just this reason!), and then he'd take out the ring, and propose to her.
"Aww, how sweet," Mark had said, in an overly sugary voice.
"And then," said Robert, his other roommate, who'd been grabbing a beer from the fridge, "You're gonna get it on all night long!" wherein he'd began singing the Lionel Ritchie song of the same name. James laughed, thinking about it. God, they were funny.
The phone rang, startling him. He snapped the ring case shut, and put it back in the dresser drawer, then snatched up the phone.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hi James," the voice on the other end said.
"Hey Evelyn, what's up?" he said, his heart pounding just hearing her voice.
"Well... we need to talk," Evelyn replied, rather hesitantly. James' stomach sank hearing those words. That was never good.
"Uhoh," he said in a cheery voice, belying his nervousness, "this doesn't sound good. What's up?"
"I... I think we should stop seeing each other." James went numb. This couldn't be happening.
"You think... why?" James croaked, tears forming at the edges of his eyes.
"I just think we need some space."
"Don't give me a bullshit answer like that, Evelyn," James snapped, his pleasant mannerisms disappearing altogether,
"Why? What did I do wrong?"
"You didn't do anything wrong... it's just that"
"Then why are you breaking up with me, if I didn't do anything wrong?"
"James, I've met someone else," Evelyn said, as she began crying.
"What? Who?" James said angrily.
"His name is Craig," Evelyn sniffled. Suddenly it hit James. Craig was one of Evelyn's coworkers. He'd been in James' apartment, he'd eaten food that James had prepared. He'd been over just last week, laughing and talking with James, all the while stabbing him in the back. That twofaced prick! Evelyn had been there too, he realized. Laughing and talking right along with them.
"Have you two slept together?" he said, his voice cracking.
"No," Evelyn replied. But she'd paused too long before answering. They'd slept together. James couldn't hold back the tears any longer, and began sobbing.
"Don't fucking lie to me!" he screamed, "How long has this been going on?! How long have you two been fucking behind my back?!" Evelyn broke down sobbing.
"Four months," she cried, "We're moving in together... we're going to be going to the same college."
"College?" James said, "why didn't you say you were going to college?"
"I'm sorry James," she said, "but we're leaving in three weeks." Oh God, James thought, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God... His head was pounding. He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe. All he could do was cry.
"Goodbye, James," Evelyn said.
"Fuck off," James sobbed, and hung up the phone.
Fifteen minutes later James walked into the living room. The guys, who were sitting around playing video games, and knocking back a few beers, looked up at him, and went quiet. "Oh shit," Robert said, "what happened?" James sat down on the couch, and put his head in his hands, then looked up at them, with his piercing hazel eyes.
"The proposal's off," he said, "It's over." He told them what had happened.
"Jesus," Mark said. Robert looked at him. "I'm gonna call that cunt up, and chew her sorry ass out," he said.
"You have my blessing," James replied.
The phone rang, and Evelyn picked it up.
"Bitch," the voice on the other end said. Evelyn paused in shock.
"Robert?" she said.
"Yeah. What's wrong with your sorry ass? James been dating you for three years, and you don't even respect him enough to break up with him in person?"
"No, I didn't," she said, "because I knew he'd overreact, and that's just what he did."
"Overreact? The hell he did!" Robert yelled.
"Yes, he did," Evelyn snapped, "He has to accept the fact that relationships end... it's part of life. I didn't think he was so serious about the relationship. I still don't understand why he's as upset as he is."
"Woman!" Robert screamed, "he was going to propose to you!" Evelyn stopped, shocked.
"He was?"
"Yeah, he showed me the ring and everything!" He was going to propose to you the day your ass is leaving for college with your 'platonic' friend,'" Robert snapped.
"Stop it," Evelyn said, as she began crying again, "Don't you think I feel bad about this as it is?"
"Well I hope so," Robert said, "because you deserve it." The line went dead.



Three years later

Evelyn rolled over and turned off her alarm clock and sat up. Next to her, Craig groaned. "Do you have to go to class today?" He mumbled groggily, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her back into bed. She giggled as he kissed the nape of her neck.
"You know I have to," she said, turning to give him a quick kiss on the lips, "and you have to get ready for work."
"I know," Craig said, "I'm trying to put it off for as long as I can,"
"Well, I'll be back by four... we'll go out to celebrate, and then..." she paused, "we'll have all night long."
"Don't tease me!" Craig sighed, "This day's gonna be soooo long,"
"That's the point," Evelyn said, "it's gonna be an anniversary you'll never forget." A brief thought of James, his hazel eyes staring mournfully at her, flickered across her mind, but she quickly pushed it out.
Craig grinned. "I can't wait."
Evelyn watched Craig drive off. She laughed to herself. She wasn't going to work. She was going to stay home, and get things ready. She imagined the look on Craig's face when he walked in the door and saw candlelight coming from the bedroom, where she would be wearing her new thong, and nothing else.
She walked back into the kitchen, and as she did, something caught her eye. On the kitchen counter, next to the sink, was a vase filled with a dozen roses. But they were all wilted. How sweet, she thought, Craig must have gotten them last night. She must not have noticed them during breakfast. She had been a little preoccupied. It was no surprise they had wilted though. No one would ever accuse that man of having a green thumb. Well, time to start getting things ready, she thought.

Craig opened the door, and closed it behind him. The faint glow of candlelight emanated from the bedroom.
"What do we have here?" he said, in an exaggeratedly loud voice. He walked into the bedroom. There was Evelyn, wearing nothing but a thong.
"Oh my," he said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
"Hop in fella," Evelyn said coyly.

Craig awoke. He could've sworn he felt something tap his shoulder. He noticed light coming from down the hall, probably in the kitchen. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed rose petals on the floor. He crawled out of bed. Sure enough, the rose petals made a trail into the kitchen. He followed the trail out to the kitchen.
"Hmm, what do you have planned now?" he said softly.

Evelyn woke up. It was still dark out, but the sun was getting ready to rise.
"Hi honey," Craig whispered.
"Oh, you couldn't sleep either?" she said.
"No," Craig whispered, "I've been too busy thinking about you."
Evelyn smiled. "That's sweet," she said.
"Turn on the lights," Craig murmured, "I have a surprise for you."
"A surprise, huh?" she said, "This sounds fun."
"Oh it will be," Craig said, laughing softly. Evelyn turned on the lamp, then rolled over to face Craig, and screamed.
"What's the matter?" James said, staring at her, with his piercing hazel eyes, "surprised to see me?"
"Oh my God, James!" Evelyn shrieked, "What are you doing?"
"I said I had a surprise," James said. He gestured towards a manilla envelope on the edge of the bed.
"James get out of my house"
"Shut the fuck up, bitch and look at my surprise!" James screamed, snapping out a knife, and brandishing it menacingly.
"Ook James," Evelyn stuttered. She opened the envelope with trembling hands. In it were several large glossy pictures. She flipped through them in shock. They were pictures of Craig. With another woman. The pictures went from the two of them kissing over a romantic lunch, and followed them back to a cheap hotel. The last picture was of a shirtless Craig, with the girl, also shirtless, clinging to him, as he closed the blinds.
"What the hell?" she said, "What is this?" James laughed.
"It hurts to be betrayed, doesn't it?" he said.
"This... this isn't any of your business, James," Evelyn said.
"Oh, but it is," James said, "I made it my business."
"James, I'm sorry I hurt you," Evelyn said, as tears formed in her eyes, "but you can't win me back. It's over between us."
"Don't flatter yourself," James snapped, "I'm not here to win you back."
"Then why are you here?" Evelyn said. James pointed to the bathroom, against the far wall. Evelyn stood, and walked over to the door, and slowly opened it. The door creaked as it opened on unoiled hinges. She thought sahe caught a flicker of movement from behind the shower curtain. She walked up to it and yanked it open.
"Oh my God!" she screamed, falling against the wall, her eyes wide with horror. There was Craig, and the girl in the pictures, both dead, lying in the bathtub, their throats savagely slashed. Evelyn stood, fighting back the urge to vomit. Then she launched herself at James.
"You bastard!" she cried, as she lunged at him. James artfully dodged out of the way. Evelyn felt pressure on the sides of her neck, and everything went black.
Evelyn groggily opened her eyes. She was in bed, in her pajamas. It had all been a dream. As she sat up the police officers surrounding her all snapped around and aimed their weapons at her.
"You're under arrest, ma'am," one of the officers said, snapping handcuffs on her, "Do you know why we're arresting you?"
"I didn't do it!" Evelyn screamed, "I didn't kill them!" As she was yanked to her feet, she looked down. Her pajamas and hands were soaked with blood. She looked up and saw a friend of hers, in the room with the officers.
"Why'd you do it?" she asked, looking shocked and a little disgusted.
"I didn't I swear!" Evelyn cried, "James did it! He stalked me, he killed them!"
"Ma'am," one of the officers said, "your prints are on the murder weapon, the blood is on your clothes, and on the photographs."
"No!" she screamed again, "it was James! James did it! Why won't you believe me?" Her friend looked at her, and the room went silent.
"Evelyn," she said, "James has been dead for almost three years."
"What?" Evelyn whispered in shock. One of the officers held up an evidence bag, with a newspaper article in it."
"We found it in the dumpster," he said, "Your prints are on it." The headline read: LOCAL MAN COMMITS SUICIDE, and featured a brief article on how the despondent James had driven his car off of a cliff, about three weeks after his girlfriend had left him for another man. "There were no other prints but yours and the two victims in the entire house," the officer said, "no other hairs, no other fluids, nothing."
As the police escorted her to the waiting squad car outside, a crowd of reporters surrounded them. Evelyn couldn't hear their questions, all the shouting, and the commotion. She was numb. Maybe they were right. A guilty conscience could do that to people. She'd killed them both, and then constructed an elaborate fantasy for herself, in which Craig still loved her, but James had been her guilty conscience, tormenting her. She'd killed them. She'd killed them. "Oh my God," she sobbed, "I killed them." The reporters went berserk upon hearing this, screaming questions at her, but she didn't notice. The officers put her in the squad car, and slammed the door. As the car began to drive slowly off, Evelyn looked out the window. It was then that she went truly insane. For a member of the crowd, behind all the reporters was smiling as he stared at her. Stared at her with piercing hazel eyes.

THE END


Alternate Ending

Charles, a reporter for the local paper, turned away from the melee of reporters in shock. He could have sworn that woman had looked right at him as the police car drove away. She looked as thought she had recognized him. How strange, he thought. He was starting to get a headache, probably from all the noise. He reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose, between his two hazel eyes, not knowing that he'd had a half-brother with the same eyes, one who'd been adopted at birth, one who had been in love with a girl who had broken his heart. Charles, the unknowing final gear in Evelyn's self-destruction, took a sip of water, and smiled. At least he was getting a good story.



Authors Note: Wanna know more about what happened? I have backstories written for each ending, detailing how it happened. One has a secret plot twist that isn't revealed in the story! If any interest is shown, I'll post 'em.

The Lady Killer

The Lady Killer
by Brandon J. Perkins


Father Johannes walked down the long hallway that led into the heart of the asylum. He had dedicated himself to helping these poor lost souls, doing what he could to save them. But it was not an easy task. Each morning, as the carriage dropped him off and he collected his bags and walked inside, he felt a mixture of fear and elation. Who knew what the coming day would bring? But today would be a day he would not, could not forget.
The guard was ahead of him, the keys attached to his pants jingling with every step. He held a candle-holder, with a plump white candle on top of it. The hallways leading down the asylum were always dark, even in the daytime, as there were no windows. The guard stopped in front of one of many rusting metal doors, number 776, and unlocked it. Father Johannes felt the nervousness within him rising. Today his patient was a very special one. Today his patient was the Lady Killer, one of the most notorious men Austria had ever seen. He had been found a few months ago, at the scene of his final murder, cradling the body. The guard opened the door, and Father Johannes entered the room. The guard closed and locked the door behind him. Father Johannes looked down at his patient, lying on a small cot on the floor. He was a lean, young man of about twenty, with a handsome face. A ladykiller in both senses of the word, Johannes thought. The man was dressed in white garments provided by the asylum, although he still had his powdered wig. He was still a man of some power. The man looked up.
"Hello, Father," he said.
"Hello my son," Father Johannes replied, "What is your name?"
"I am Anatole Denadre, son of the late Lord Denadre." Father Johannes suppressed a gasp of surprise. This man was not a lesser lord, as he had assumed, but was the son of one of the most powerful men in all Vienna. My God, Father Johanness thought. The man had enough money to buy the asylum he was in, as well as all the land for ten miles around it. Not that it would do him any good now, of course.
"So tell me, my son," Father Johannes asked, "they tell me you requested an audience with me. Why?"
Anatole looked up at him. "I need a knife to free myself, father."
Father Johannes looked at him incredulously, thinking it some sort of jest.
"Well... my son, you know I can't do that," he said.
Anatole gave a slight chuckle. "Forgive me father, you misunderstand."
"Do you wish to explain it to me?"
"Of course," Anatole replied, "but to do that, I will need to explain my crimes from the very beginning."
Father Johannes tensed. Incredible. He was going to hear the whole story of this madman from his perspective. Perhaps then he could begin to save him. "I have as much time as you need, my son," he said.
Anatole looked up, thoughtfully. "Let me start from the beginning."

"My mother died when I was very young, and my father died when I was eighteen years old. I was born here in Vienna, but my father came here with his parents when he was five years old, in 1702. I was born on November 6th, 1729. It was back in 1746 when I first met Annabelle."
"Annabelle?" Johannes echoed.
"Yes, Annbelle, the love of my life."
"I see," Johannes said, "and is she waiting for you outside these walls?" Anatole gazed out the window.
"Yes," he said, "yes she is. But back to my story. As you may know, the goal of any noble is to squirm as far up the social ladder as he can. It's a game, a deadly game that you are born into. The higher up the ladder you are, the more enemies you have. You must always be on your guard or they will bring about your downfall, or worse, your death."
"So why play this game?"
"Because if you do not, then you are expendable. The secret to playing the political game is to find the right way to play. If you do not try hard enough, you will get nowhere, which will lead to your downfall, but if you overestimate yourself, you will find too late that you are being stabbed in the back, sometimes literally."
"How do you know this?" Johannes asked.
"It's common knowledge among the aristocracy. When it happens, everyone knows why, but no one says so. Also, I might add... I've done it. But it began to get to the point where that wasn't enough. I wanted to kill more, but this game is politic. If you go around killing all the time, the collective aristocracy will realize it's you and bring you down in no time. So, I turned to another form of killing, another game. Killing young women."
"Why young women?" the shocked Father Johannes asked.
"Why should I go after young men? Young men are strong, and can surprise you with their strength. Not to mention, they often carry knives or pistols, to protect their loves. Remember, overestimating yourself will lead to your downfall."
"Why don't you tell me about the killings, Anatole," Johannes said, "did you seduce these young ladies and then murder them? Did you... dessecrate their bodies?"
"Absolutely not!" Anatole said loudly. "Forgive my outburst, father. I would never do such a thing. I admit that I seduced quite a few of them before murdered them, but nothing else."
"Forgive my asking, Anatole, but how is it you can claim to love Annabelle, when you make love to other women?"
"Well you see father, sex is part of the game. I felt nothing for any of the women I seduced, but sometimes it has to be done. Annabelle doesn't know. She doesn't go to balls or concerts. She prefers the company of simpler people who won't betray her. That's why I love her. Because I know I can trust her, and my love for her could never be diminished."
"Of course. Please continue," Johannes replied.
"Well, when I first decided to begin killing was at a masquerade ball. Everyone was wearing masks, as was I. I realized I would not be noticed. So I found a young woman alone in the back rooms of the house, away from the party. I stabbed her to death, then cleaned up, and changed into another jacket that I had found in the closet of one of the rooms. It looked basically like the one I had come in with. No one would be suspicious, and the man who owned it had a thousand more. He'd never even notice it was missing. I tossed my jacket into the fireplace. Then I returned to the galla and charmed everyone by playing romantic songs on the harpsichord. I'm well known in the aristocratic circles as being an excellent harpsichordist. So, of course, the murder became big news following the days after it was discovered. The idea that one of the guests had seduced and deflowered a beautiful young woman, then murdered her and returned to the party, mingling among them... and that they didn't know who it was... inrigued them greatly. It also gave me my nickname, The Lady Killer. But that was not until later, after I had commited several more murders.
"The aristocrats could have stopped throwing masquerade parties, but they did not. In fact, they were overflowing with people. Everyone wanted to say they had been at a ball where the notorious Lady Killer had struck. Soon, women would not leave sight of the ball without a man to chaperone them. A few times I would kill their man, and then chase them down and kill them. But most of the time, I would invite a woman out for a walk, saying 'Tis not safe to be out and about with such a beast as the Lady Killer lurking out there,' wherein I would proceed to kill them, once we were alone, and sneak back in to the party, at which point I would associate with everyone, mainly old women who were standing in groups talking about that horrible brute, the Lady Killer, and how awful it was. I think though that they were all fantasizing to some extent, about this vigorous young man chasing them down and making savage love to them, conveniently forgetting about the fact that the Lady Killer also killed his victims. At this point they would say something to the extent of 'oh dear I hope he never comes after me,' as if I would want to seduce them, to which I would say something like 'Beast though he may be, I doubt that even he should wish to deprive the world of such radiant beauty' and kiss their hand. They would giggle and blush and thank me for being such a gentleman, even though what I was saying was an out and out lie. But they didn't know this, and after all, that's how the game is played. Surely such a polite young man couldn't do something so ghastly.
"One thing is for sure though. All of them respected the man who was doing this, for who could play their game, and another, even more dangerous one as well? Well, now they know, and even though they will say what a monster I am, they are in awe of me as well. I started to become more vicious in my killings as well. Once you've become adept at something, you've got to up the ante, or you'll become stagnant. I would cut off their heads, or gut them, or nail them to a wall, or even all of the above. The worse it was, the more notorious I became. Some of the lords and ladies wanted the masquerades to stop, but most of them did not. They wanted an opportunity to catch the killer, become the hero, or deduce who it was, and go after them silently. Some of them were just morbidly curious. Not to mention the aristocratic world was abuzz with conversation about it. They had more to talk about now than just the latest opera.
"Were your killings ever motivated by the politics in which you played a part?" Father Johaness asked.
"Yes, indeed they were. Once in a while I would have the opportunity to use a murder to my advantage. For instance, once, I had taken a young lady to a bedroom, and made love to her. In short order she was pinned to the wall, dead, the details of which I shall spare you, Father. Unfortunately, a longtime enemy of mine, a pompous ass by the name of Marquis de Leffeur, a French nobleman who had resided here for some years, heard the sounds of a struggle, and came to investigate. He opened the door, and reigned in his shock quite gracefully, before smiling at me.
'Well, well,' he said, 'if it isn't Lord Denedre, the Lady Killer.' I stared up at him in unmitigated shock, my clothes covered in blood. He chuckled. 'See you tomorrow at the opera, Anatole,' he said. I realized then that he was going to destroy me politically, as he knew that he most likely couldn't take me on in a hand-to-hand fight. Not only that, but he would also be declared a hero. Unfortunately for him, he did not consider the options that I had. He assumed I would wait until tomorrow to challenge him. Instead, as soon as he turned his back to me, I grabbed him and threw him into the room, where he landed in the pool of blood worming it's way across the floor, and locked the door, and took the key. Then I went to another section of the house, and changed clothes. He spent the night in that room, the huge oak door muffling his shouts. When he was found, about thirty hours later, he was sitting in a corner, disheveled, covered in blood, and mumbling. He looked quite the part of the madman. So, it was easily assumed that he was the Lady Killer. He was sent off to an asylum, and everyone, thinking the killing was over, celebrated with reckless abandon. Of course, I struck again. They realized the Marquis was innocent, but he was also permanently insane. So, he was left in the asylum, effectively removed from the political game.
"Also one of my enemies is Lord Valantine, an extremely powerful man, who had been a friend of my father's. He acted as a friend to me, but it was all a ruse. Once, I spent a night at his residence. He had one of his servants, a young boy sneak into my bed as I lie sleeping. Then he burst in the door and raised a commotion, to which other powerful lords and ladies bore witness. It is political suicide to be homosexual, of which I am not, so I was quite upset with these charges. I angrily confronted the poor boy, who broke down crying, and confessed the Lord Valantine had put him up to it. Lord Valantine was horrified, as he had not expected the boy to confess. Naturally the lords and ladies present were quite shocked, or at least pretended to be, though I imagine they would have done the same thing in Lord Valantine's position. However, Lord Valantine is also a very cruel man. A few days later, before he could be questioned further, the young boy was trampled to death in an... unfortunate accident. I vowed my revenge on Lord Valantine. Then, not that long ago, who did I spy in a lonely bedroom with her lover? None other than Lord Valantine's lovely daughter. One of my most vicious murders, I think. I believe Lord Valantine suspected that one of his enemies was the Lady Killer at this point. But he had enemies, so many enemies. How could he know which one it was? After I was imprisoned here he knew however, and bribed corrupt guards to rape me, but his plan backfired when I took a bite out of the guard's neck, and watched his lifeblood spill onto the floor. Now I'm left alone for the most part. But back to my story."

Here Anatole leaned forward, his voice taking on dead seriousness.

"At this point I had killed dozens of people. I would go on to kill only one more. I went to a masquerade ball. This one was a huge celebration, a St. Valentine's Day ball. There were many people there, more than I had ever seen. I performed music for them for hours, then went out and danced with the ladies. At one point I turned to see a beautiful young woman beckoning me. I went to her. She was by herself at the other end of the ballroom. She ran away giggling, and I followed her, albeit for a different reason than she was thinking. We ran out into the courtyard, into the hedge maze. At the center of the hedge maze, she stopped, and I ran up to her. She smiled coquettishly at me. I smiled back at her, even as my hand went to my knife. She rushed into my arms, and it was then that stabbed her in the side, many times. She fell to the ground, her long hair flowing down around her like blood, staring at me in wide-eyed horror. I took off my mask, and stared into her eyes, grinning like a madman. Her eyes went wide as she saw me. Then she died. I kneeled down, and took off her mask..."
Here Anatole began to cry.
"What's wrong my son?" Father Johannes said concernedly.
Anatole looked up at him, as if seeking sanctuary, his eyes bleeding tears.

"It was Annabelle, the love of my life."

"My God," Father Johannes said, crossing himself.
"I killed her, Father!" Anatole sobbed, "The last thing she saw was my face!" He collapsed into Father Johaness' arms, wracked with sobs. Father Johanes held him tightly.
"I'm sorry my son," he said. After a few moments Anatole spoke.
"I never believed in God," he said, "until that moment. It was then that I knew that God was showing me what I had done by using it against me." He smiled, a broken-hearted smile. "I guess God wins the game," he said, "so you see Father, this is what I mean. Let me go to the waiting arms of my Annabelle... give me a knife. Let me set myself free."
It was then that Father Johannes knew what Anatole wanted. He withdrew from his robe a hunting knife, and gave it to Anatole. Then he pounded on the door and called for the guard. The guard opened the door and let him out, then closed and locked it. Father Johannes walked down the hall until he was out of the guards' earshot. Then he broke down in heaving sobs.

"I'll see you soon, Annabelle, my love," Anatole said tearfully as Father Johaness' footsteps faded. Then he took the dagger and put it to his wrist.

* * *

Epilogue

Anatole sat in his room, silently holding the dagger. After a few moments he jumped up, and ran to the window, where he began using the kinife to pry open the metal bars that ran across it. Finally it was free. He pulled it off, and set it on the floor, then gazed out his window at the huge lake below.
"I love men of God!" he laughed, "so easily swayed are they!" Then he took a running jump out of his window, and went sailing downward into the lake. He surfaced, and looked around. His manor was only a few miles from here. He would be there in no time.
"I do believe in God, Father Johannes," he said softly, "but I believe in the devil as well." Then he swam towards shore. "I wonder what Italy is like this time of year," he said to himself. Then he laughed.

In his room was a piece of paper, stabbed to the wall with a knife. It was addressed to Father Johannes. Inside it read:

Father,

They respected me for being a lord. They respected me more when they found out I was a lord and a killer. Think how much they will respect me now that I've escaped. This is the way the game is played.

Sincerely,
V. Anatole Denadre, Esq.


That night, Lord Valantine's house was set on fire. In the confusion Lord Valantine's guards lost track of him. He was found a few hours later in a field. His genitals and head had been cut off. An arrow was through his heart. On it was a note addressed to the most powerful lords in Vienna that said simply:

I win the game.

Fondly,
V. Anatole Denedre, Esq.
The Lady Killer


Vienna stopped throwing masquerade balls. But when they started back up again, who knew if Anatole would be there waiting for the next young girl? Only The Lady Killer knew. And he wasn't telling anyone.


THE END