Sunday Scribblings: Good

It was the red nail polish that started it all.

There were other factors involved too, of course. The air itself had been ebbing with tension, a thickly humid heat that wafted gently, as though one could cut through it with a knife. The kind of evening that seemed almost alive, breathing, waiting. Others felt it too, I could tell; the vibes coming off them were unsure, anticipating. I was not alone.

A woman approached me. She possessed a strange beauty; not conventional in any means. I was drawn to her hands; they were slender, with long fingers and pale, white skin. In contrast, her nails were short and square, and adorned in crimson paint. They fixated me.

The hours passed.

Later, I sat motionless in my car. The passenger seat was empty; I was alone. A humid, sticky breeze flowed through the two partly open windows, feeling strangely soothing on my forehead.  The lights from the town glinted in front of me. I watched them.

Just then, movement distracted my eyes from the city ahead; a creature stood frozen in the glinting of the car headlights. I saw panic reflected in its eyes, but in a blink of my own, it was gone. I stared at the empty spot where it had stood, idly pondering what had spooked it, wondering where it had fled.

My eyes moved from side to side, surveying the brush on either side of the headlights. To the left, there was nothing. To the right, I was greeted with an alarming vision that forced me to gasp for breath. Where my passenger seat was once vacant, now sat a figure, cloaked in black.

"I am sorry to startle you," announced the voice, speaking in soft, yet bold tones.
"Not at all." I reply heartily, as though to cover my surprise. Already though, I can tell that my visitor is amused by my reaction to his appearance.
"Is it done?"
"Yes. It's done. In the back."

At that, the figure nodded briskly and left the car, exiting as silently as he arrived. He moved to the rear of the car and lifted the trunk; from here, my view was obstructed. Without moving my eyes from the quiet view of the city below, I heard a shuffling, a thud, and then silence.

Something landed on my lap, tossed casually through the open window. Without looking down, I knew what sight would greet me; a wad of bills, loosely bound together. An appropriate price. Turning my head, I saw a dark figure on the dirt. Covered by a woven rug, the only shape apparent in the moonlight was a slender hand; blood red nails caressing the ground.

The figure re-appeared at the window. I bowed my head; he returned the gesture.

"Good."

I started the engine, reversed and headed back to the town.

Fore more Sunday Scribblings, go here.