The Night Is Here

Salvage

It was sharp 4 in the morning. Morning for the people who breathe. Us. Not morning for our souls. The dead souls. Yes, we all have a dead soul inside us which doesn’t sleep. Nor does it let us sleep in peace. The poor soul is made of our broken dreams, broken hearts, broken connections, broken feelings and us; the broken people.
Anyway.

It was 4 in the morning when she looked up at the creepy clock hanging on the ruined with time walls of her old apartment. The walls are old and damaged, just like her. And again, they too are lonely and dark. Filled with vague resentment. Myra had grown used to loving them by now. Afterall they spent 25 years together. People came into her life and went. But the walls stayed. Ugly and strong. Constant. The only thing constant in her life apart from her love for broken things. And people.

No. If you are thinking that she fixes them then no, you are wrong. Myra is not that kind of a person. She believes in demolishing something that’s broken. She saves them the pain. Murder? No no no! She doesn’t call it killing. She is just doing them a favour. 

It was a Sunday morning. The waiting-outside-the-church-for-her-next-victim day. Myra gets up from her bed, one jump and she is in the bathroom. Quite swift for her 55 year old body. Brandon used to love how flexible Myra could be in bed at times. Poor thing, he broke down after his 13 year old daughter died in a car crash. Myra couldn’t see him in pain so she sent him to his daughter. So what if it made her a widow for the 5th time? She saved them all. 

She takes a clean bath. As if rubbing her skin could erase her sins. But she believed in god you know? Quite firmly. She then puts on her beautiful red dress. Which glows off her sparkling white skin. The dress looks like it was meant for her. It fit her so perfectly like it was making love to her curves. Myra was a gorgeous evil woman. You hardly come across one of her kind. And I hope you don’t either. 

She finishes off her bacon and rushes for the church. The young ones come around this time. And they are the most broken ones. She has never saved one young soul. She wishes to do that today. She can’t be late. 

As she arrived at the church all she could see were smiling faces around. She felt lost. And defeated. There were happy people of all ages, all colour, all type. Not a single sad soul to be seen. Tired and disappointed she went to the backyard and sat on an old bench. And to her surprise, there sat an 18 year old beautiful girl crying. Oh heavens! 

“What is wrong my child?” asked Myra like mother nature at her best. 

“My father is lost. I can’t find him since three years. I don’t know if he’s dead or alive.” The young goddess blurted out. 

“Oh my dear don’t you cry. We’ll look for your father everywhere. In heaven and earth. Don’t lose hope my child.” Said Myra patting her shoulder. 

“I’ve lost hope already. I just want to be with him wherever he is now.” Cried the girl. 

“If that is what you want, then I can help you darling. I know magic. But for that you’ll have to come to my place with me.” Whispered Myra in the girl’s ear. 

“Can you? I am ready to do anything to be with my father. Take me home lady.” There was a certain kind of glitter in the young girl’s eyes when she said this. And I can swear it was something you wish not to see. 

And with that Myra took her hand and led her down the deserted alley to her filthy apartment which stank of her rotten food and empty heart. The girl looked at the place upon reaching like she always belonged here. Like she was meant to be here. She didn’t look broken anymore. Which kind of suprised Myra but she didn’t utter a word. 

“Make yourself comfortable while I prepare something to eat.” Said Myra to the girl pointing out at her ruined sofa which looked like it came straight from hell. 

Myra started preparing her special tea in the kitchen. A tea that has been the last for everyone who tasted it. It looked alluring like everything deadly does. The few drops of potassium cyanide only made it smell like heaven. And sparkle like hell at the same time. Pun not intended. And with that placed in a tray, a smiling Myra came back to the hall. The smile on Myra’s face resembled the look on a hungry tiger’s face before it devours on its prey. 

“Here my child, lets talk about your problems while tasting this old lady’s especial tea.” Said Myra, her voice smooth as velvet. 

“Why not talk about them in hell?” Said the girl pointing a gun straight at Myra’s creaseless forehead. 

“Wh..who are you?” 

“The broken daughter of a man you once saved.” And with that Brandon’s elder daughter pulled the trigger. 

Sometimes the saviour too needs to be saved.