Melody of Revenge

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A Lovely melody came from the record player on the porch. A mellow Sinatra-like tune accompanying the moonlight. The music softly wound its way around the house filling each nook and cranny. It was only when the music stopped, and the needle scratched the record in a longing screech, that life appeared. A woman was in the doorway. She was tall and willowy and was holding a smith and Wesson compact pistol. She breathed heavily and set down her floral suitcase. She noticed the scratching record and she walked over to carefully place the needle back to the first song. The enchanting music began again. She closed her eyes, humming along. With one hand she refashioned her hair in the other she held the gun as casually as she would hold a hairbrush. Smiling she walked back over to her suitcase, placed the gun in the front pocket and started down the porch stairs. She wiped her hands on her jacket leaving crimson smudges on the pockets. As she walked off the last step she simply disappeared into thin air leaving a lovelorn crooner to vocalize his woes of romance to no one but the dark.

         The next morning the house stood in stillness. The door was open. If you were to walk in the first thing you would notice was the shattered pieces of glass from the front window scattered in the doorway. The second thing you would notice would be the wonderfully handsome young man propped up in an armchair with two bullets in his chest. And after you got over that awful tragic scene you would hear a haunting melody playing outside that you didn’t remember hearing before.