Yuh... another short story. This one is waaaaaaaay old, though. Like, three years old. Maybe four, idk.
I had to fish it from an old forum post from ages ago, since the version of word I originally wrote it one died.
Ick.
Anyway, yes. Short story. I'm a fan of those. Easy to write. Yaddayadda.
No crit on this since it's olllllllllllldddddddddduuuuuuuh.
Kread.
<3Kay/Kyla/Kylur.
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Sure, she was pretty. "Immaculate beauty", some called her. Heather shook her head as she passed the woman, off to her next stop. And her parents wondered why she was spending so much money...
"You," the woman, the Immaculate Beauty called out. "Come 'ere."
Heather turned and put her hand on her hip, feeling a slight irritation. "What do you want?"
Her face contorted into this devilish grin, her eyes glittering with evil. "Your soul."
Heather blinked. Her soul? What the hell was this lady talking about? "Uh, yeah, sure. Keep it?" She said, backing away slightly.
"Come 'ere," the woman said, her French accent butchering the word 'here'. "It will go fast, I promise."
Shaking her head, Heather turned back around and headed to her next stop. "Yeah, no thanks."
"I never said you 'ad a choice," the woman hissed, grabbing Heather by her arm. "Choices are reserved for the Choyce."
"Let me go," Heather growled, trying to pry the ladies fingers from around her arm. "What the hell is your problem, and the "Choyce"?"
Grinning, the woman pressed her face to Heathers neck and laughed. "You are deemed unfit to live any longer, Heather," her teeth grazed Heather's neck, making her shudder. "Your choices of lovers seem to reflect how you react to me," the woman whispered, following the small print of lipstick on Heather's neck with the tip of her nose. "Too bad I'm not going to do what she did."
Heather, silent now, pushed against the woman. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes you do," the woman said, her voice nearly silent, unemotional. "You know how you have to cover up everything about yourself," she shoved her hand into Heather's pocket, tearing it out and holding the wad of money. "This isn't for groceries, now is it?"
"...Y-yes, yes it is," she backed away, wanting to run, wanting to tell somebody about this psycho b*tch.
The lady stepped closer to Heather, her sweet breath brushing her face. "Ecstasy can only get you so far in artificial tablets, Heather."
"You don't know anything about me," she hissed, turning away again, this time finally able to break into a run, only to be grabbed by the woman again.
"Pray and repent, pray and repent," she recited, leveling the solid .9 mm glock at her forehead. "Let thy angel's cry, for thee has sinned, and heaven has rejected thy soul."
She didn't even have time to open her mouth to scream. She could only wonder, only dream. How could the Immaculate Beauty be a psycho killer...? And the snow, white and pure, was tainted by the stain of crimson.
