Glory Days

INTRO

We do not fear the dark, just the monsters that live there.

 The October wind threw dry leaves down the darkened alley. Dahlia watched them cast darting shadows on the graffiti soaked wall. Her auburn hair flicked across her face and she tossed it back, casting a self conscious glance at her shadow on the bricks next to her, the outline faintly illuminated by a distant street lamp.

    It was the act of surveying her artful waves which alerted her to the second silhouette of a man. His fingers looked like knives, outstretched towards her in the dark. Her insides clenched in instinctive fear as she spun to face her stalker.

    “What do you want?” He silently moved towards her, a predator that now does not need to hurry as its prey is cornered. Dahlia felt a rush of revulsion.

    A frightening vision of the future assaulted her mind in the few seconds that separated her and the shadowed stalker. She knew what would be on the lips of anyone who saw the news item.

    “That girl had it coming walking alone in Brighton at night.”

    “And look at what she was wearing! These girls do give the wrong impression, it’s no wonder…” She shut off the mental film reel and gave the advancing man a rueful glare. Why shouldn’t a woman be able to walk alone in the night? Why the hell shouldn’t she?

     That was the whole damn reason she’d set out on the walk. To prove to herself the world wasn’t such a bad place and to forget about the person who’d made her feel that it was. All it was doing was reminding her how much men really sucked.

    “It’ll be easier if you don’t fight,” he said and she thought he was probably right, but there was no way in hell she was just going to let this happen. Her fists balled and she made a nervous swing for his face which he batted away. For some reason her body was freezing up. It was like being in a nightmare when all of your muscles have turned to jelly right when it really matters.

   “Your choice,” he said and she had a strong feeling he enjoyed it when his victims fought back. Of course he did.

    It felt like the darkness was closing around her as he grasped her wrists and she tried to scream, but her throat was as useless as her fists and only a thin squeak came out. She’d turned her head away from her attacker but now she looked back, hoping to make eye contact and plead her way out of the situation with promises and appeals to his better nature, as so many had tried before her. When she stared into the murky depths of his pupils all she saw was his animal anticipation of what was to come, but then it all went wrong. 

    His eyes turned glassy and filled to the brim with the horror of someone who’s just realised they aren’t immortal after all. Dahlia felt something warm and wet splatter across her face and when she looked down at the rivulets running down her purple dress they appeared black in the dim light, but she could smell the blood. The man collapsed on to her and she moved aside to let him fall face down onto the hard concrete, choking on his own blood. A strange shiver ran along her spine and an unwelcome thought crossed her mind for a moment before she deliberately forgot it.

     Someone was standing behind the dying man. 

    “No need to thank me.” The muffled voice came from a tall, broad figure who was wearing a hoodie and a bandana which covered the bottom half of his face so only his eyes were visible. The bandana was printed with a skull which made it seem like he was perpetually grinning. Death’s last laugh, she thought. A heavy saw-toothed knife was in his right hand and she knew from the dark liquid dripping from the blade that seconds earlier it had been embedded in the would-be-rapist’s neck.

    By some strange coincidence the wall behind him had a mural of a flying cat painted on it, and his positioning made it look like he had wings… as well as a tail and some ears, which sort of ruined the illusion.

    “That’s the weirdest angel I ever saw,” she muttered under her breath as her saviour walked away leaving her alone in the dark alley with a dead man.

    Oh.

    She paused for a moment, taking a good look around. Nothing moved and the windows high above her were tiny. She suspected that the residents probably purposefully avoided looking through them. They wouldn’t want to spend their lives testifying. 

    No witnesses.

    For a moment she dithered, seeing the choices before her. Doing the right thing meant having her life disrupted by a murder inquiry of someone who didn’t deserve justice. She wasn’t going to waste her time on scum like him. Also Fred would kill me if I missed a gig, she thought, and that was what tipped her into making a decision.

    She continued walking towards the seafront, intending to take the very long way home so that no one would be able to pin her to the scene or follow her.

    Just in case.