Twisted Shadows
He walked, she stalked. He glanced, she stared. He sweats, she smiles. He swallows, she giggles. He knows she is there, watching, hunting, waiting for the chance to strike. But he keeps a straight face, showing not the fear he knows she can smell, but instead the cockiness he would wear at his rigged card games. The shadows at his feet laugh and whisper, telling of the many men like him who had fallen prey to her. But he knew she wouldn't kill him... Yet. He was different, special to her somehow. He was the exception to the rule of death. But that didn't make him any calmer, didn't relax his hands trained over his deck of cards, ready to fly and tear through flesh, stun and confuse, or draw power. He adjusts his cowboy hat, sniffs, and continues on down the dark. He knew this was a game. A game of cat and mouse to her, a game of life and death to him. As he shuffled his deck yet again, he heard a soft giggle echo down the dark passage, chilling and warming him, making him want to pause and wait for her, yet quicken his pace towards his stuffy room he knew would provide no shelter. As the ugly door to his cramped room came into view and he pulled out his rusty key, he felt her before he heard her. But soon the loud click clack of her heels keeping pace with his cowboy boots echoed through the hall, sounding like a sick symphony of clashing blades. As he slots the key into the small handle, she leans against the oak door, keeping him from opening it.
She smiles, "Avoiding me again, darling? That's quite rude, considering I've been vying for your attention so. You're hurting my feelings honey."
He paused, captivated by her, and quickly countered," Well darlin', you know me, runnin from everyone and everything. Guess 'am so good I don't even realize 'am doin it."
She laughed at this, bright white teeth a stark contrast to her young light purple skin, showing wicked beauty that has sent many a man to a bloody grave.
She stepped away from the door, closer towards him, looked down at the key in the handle, and teasingly spoke, "Aren't you to take a woman to a meal before trying to bed her? Twisted Fate you are a dog indeed."
She waited for his reaction, and Twisted Fate only chuckled and finished opening the door, trying to get out of such close quarters with her, to catch his breath. But as he took the first step into the sink hole he called home, she stepped forward and gave him a small peck on the cheek.
Laughing at his shock, she whispered, "Yes, well, much as it pains me to be away, I must be going. Widows to make, you understand. Just do try to be easier to find next time, alright my dear?" He scowled at the idea of others, but merely nodded, stepping in only to turn and see that she was gone, a small pouch left where she was standing. He bent over, noticing it to be a card holster, something traveling magicians often had. He opened it and found a small letter, reading,
About time you replaced that leathery piece of shit. With love -E
Next to the E was a lip shaped patch of lipstick, the classic signature of Evelynn, the Widow Maker. He chuckled, closed the door, and fell asleep to peaceful nightmares of his lovely killer.