Monday, January 6, 2020

The Fanged Night

Contributor: Jonah Polivoron

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She picks a bar
Not too dark
Not too loud
Not too crowded
Not too dead.

She picks a person
Man, woman, doesn't matter.
What matters is the clothes
The scent, brand name, expensive
The desperation
The nervousness
The shakes.

She picks a person
She flirts and plays hard to get
Leans in and pulls away
Keeps the quarry guessing
Keeps the drinks flowing

She strikes suddenly
A seductive offer
A night of forbidden pleasure
Leads her quarry to the alleyway
That is her abattoir
That is her cutting room floor
That is her nest
If only for a moment
If only for long enough
To strip her prey
Of everything of value
Leave them mewling in the cold
Leave them whining and wondering
While she cuts cross-country
Her eyes already on another bar
Another alleyway abattoir
In another city
Where she's just another face
Another anonymous face
Looking for an anonymous fix
With another
Anonymous mark.

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