Blood and Guts

i

For every side of your body where the light does not fall and the shadow lurks, lies your demon.

Rani was sure that today was the last day she was ever going to see Alma.

The girl who once ruled her heart went rogue in love when Rani stared at her stoic brown eyes with undeniable hatred.

Alma was a bit loose in the head.
She reared sheep all her life and wore the skin with pride but here in Cairo she wanted just a bit more than that.

Ironically Alma was a vegetarian.

The mail arrived later that afternoon with bloody hand prints on the box and inside a beautifully carved raw leather- it was for Alma- skin with Alma's initials printed, it was her time to leave.

Their meeting was tragic in the dead roads of the bazaar at night where no cuckoo chirped and the smell of spices that wafted in the air came to a halt.

Alma had seen a man, his silhouette moving in the dark and sweet muffled cries that screamed of unknown horrors.

She had seen Rani then who would've gone unnoticed if it weren't for Alma's keen eye- the one she often had while finding a prey- being forced upon by the man with a beard, clothes torn and his hands wrapped around her throat.

Rani begged and cried, her hands defeated on her sides and the man triumphant, victory etched on his lips curled up in a sadistic smile.

And Alma, almost with no building emotion walked toward the curtained barrier, sounds of footsteps unheard under the constricted sobs.

Her hand traced the curve of the shining knife, fingers gripping the wooden edge, in a swift motion piercing the flesh of the bearded man from behind who fell on the ground with a little too much of blood flowing down his throat. She had hit the vein.

Rani screamed.

She noticed Alma's eyes first. Baseless and empty. She feared Alma more than the man on the ground. She slipped down on to her scraped knees, tearing eyes staring at the face in the pool of blood. Dead.

"You killed him, my husband."

"I did."

Alma looked at the young widow almost around her age, maybe younger, hair strands falling loose on her bruised face.

"You killed Tariq."

"He would've killed you. "

"Do you think I fear death?" Rani spat it at Alma with so much of hatred, Alma cocked an eyebrow and noticed Rani's bloodied lip as she spoke, with each syllable her lips twisting and arching.

Alma was in love.

She laughed and kneeled beside Rani, knife in her hands she held Tariq's cheek and began carving it.

"What are you doing?" Rani said between the cries, her torn clothes showed a lot of skin and Alma's breath hitched.

Rani did notice that, secondly.

Just the way she had also noticed how she had carved on his face, her name on his cheek. Alma.

She also knew that Alma was bad news. It was in her stance, how it did not waver a bit and how she was clothed in black, and those sinister eyes.

Rani fell.

They heard voices down the slim road, approaching echoes of the watchmen.

"They'll find you," Rani said with bloodshot eyes, her rage completely blind, gone .

Alma, brushing the dirt off her slacks, pulled Rani to her feet,
"They never do, now run."

And Alma was right when she said that.

They found a body at the bazaar. The man's face was too bloody to be identified. But they knew someone named Alma had done it. Only they couldn't find her.

Rani couldn't find her either when that evening the box disappeared and Alma left without saying goodbye.