SNUFF (h.s.)

Chapter 25

The Red Shoes

They'd spent a week on the road. They were drivin' easy and smooth. They were alone across the thin highway. None was coming after them, that wasn't the case. Harry had his mind set like that. Nora didn't. Sergio understood it was her. She was thinking of him and his arrogant smug realizing it was her. Rosa's rebellious doings.

The rest of the world watched on the telly brutal murders and thought they fit the glorious demise of an adult film director. It was just a thought. An innocent, tiny bit of thought. After all, they hadn't killed him alright. Nora had. And yet, the rest of the world was as perverted as her.

Sergio witnessed her romantic poem. Come and let me kill you, her whispers echoed from the dried blood on the victims. A few more days and he'll know that if his car crashes and he's tossed out of the windshield, he won't die like a fucking miserable deer. He had to be able to get through such shit if it happens. He had to rest before he left.

"This is the last time my voice is heard by the sun", Rhiannon's raspy voice whispers as her sticky lips breathe on the microphone, "Then we'll be back together after midnight and up until sunrise. I'll become again your companion during the witching hours. So, be aware... Here, on Viper FM we've collected the bestest slow music just for you!"

Nora knows a voice can betray someone's smile. Rhiannon was a happy person, always smiling. Nora's favorite radio station lady. She'd never seen her face. Every Viper FM billboard she'd come across had her name on, no flesh or Romikartya pin-up figures. The invisible woman speaking across the electromagnetic universe.

"I need to buy a couple postcards"

"What for?"

"I want to ask her for a photograph", she nodded at the radio.

"Rhiannon?"

"Yes, I need erotic postcards. Otherwise, she'll know where we are"

"Haven't you seen her face?"

"Have you?"

"Once. I believe it was her. I recognized her voice"

"How was she?"

"Why tell you?"

Nora had sly eyes. Tiger eyes. Her necklace was hanging from the mirror. Harry was resting his head on the open window as she was driving. He smiled at her.

"You will if she dislikes my gift"

"She won't"

Nora looked for a shop that sells erotic postcards. What do these joints look like? She'd walk in, all sure and blissful, with round watery eyes looking for the still tits. Yes, she'd send her a naked female animal of erotic sort. The evil Eve. I have to get a dozen of these. I can't make my own. She'll recognize me. She won't cry; 'That's Nora!' but she'll mumble on her mic 'Thank you Rosa for the token of your gratitude'. Nora was faceless. The faceless poetress writes to the invisible radio surfer.

"Let's get our kicks here", Harry pointed at a circus sign he'd heard about on a local station. He imagined once they'd pass by Kansas a whirly whirlwindful hurricane express will lure them to the Californian shores. The silver highway was their flying carpet. He'd reach Hawaii in one-thousand-and-one Nora's pussy dances.

They didn't stay in Kansas for long. Nobody did.