Heavens Alley - Chapter 7: Time To Play

Eric swivelled his whiskey glass, watching the ice cubes crash against each other, splashing golden scotch around. Lenny's was unusually packed tonight. It was election day, and everyone felt they deserved a drink after fulfilling their moral duty of voting. There was a festive mood in the air, which is always the case at bars in small cities, where almost everyone knows everyone. Eric hated festivities. He hated people, and a herd of them crowded in one place made him anxious. He didn't regularly drink, but today he needed one. He felt oddly dissatisfied. He had mutilated, butchered and strangled four people. A kill like that should have felt orgasmic. But he didn't feel contended. He realised the reason, was Amora Rey.

He killed when he had the need to kill. He did it to satisfy a deep clawing urge at the bottom of his black soul. He did it when he chose to, how he chose to. This time he did it out of spite. He did it because of Amora and this made him feel she had stolen the cause for the kill from him. He wanted to teach Amora a lesson, and right now he didn't feel like he had accomplished this task. He wanted to see her face while she cried and pulled at her hair in terror. He wanted to feel in control again. The thought of not being the master of his surroundings annoyed him. He took his gaze of the ice cubes and looked around. Everyone was wearing their Sunday best. He spotted a group of college students at the bar, three cheerful girls and four burly jocks. He looked at the girl in the middle, leaning against the counter. She wore a pretty brown dress. The other six had their eyes on her while she spoke, with an air of authority. The guys wanted her attention and the girls admired her. In fact, now that he noticed, a lot of men around the pub were eyeing her. She was in the spotlight, and she knew it. She was beautiful and certainly did deserve the attention she was getting. He continued to stare at her. He had to regain power.

He got up, downed his drink and smacked the glass back on the table. A few eyes turned his way. He flexed his neck and began walking towards the girl in brown, his gaze fixed on her eyes. When he was halfway there, the other girls in the troupe noticed him and whispered to each other, no doubt discussing the handsome man coming their way. When he was ten feet away the jocks got alert. The protective gene passed down from the caveman went into overdrive. Men and their egos, thought Eric. When he was four feet away she noticed him. Suddenly he was right in front of her. The other girls looked on in excitement, the jocks flexed ready to pounce at the brown girls command. Eric simply stared at her. He locked eye contact, and the brown girl reciprocated with equal ferocity. She was used to unknown men approaching her. She knew all she had to do was point a finger and the jocks would come to her aid, so she was safe. She also knew that even the most confident men shuddered when she switched on her charm. But this man seemed different. He had a look of intense passion in his eyes. He was unusually handsome, and he was not making a move, just standing there. What are you made of, mister she wondered. She was sitting on a bar stool, so she had to look up at Eric, and this excited him. He knew she was waiting for a cheesy one liner. There wasn't going to be one. He was not interested in her, neither was he here for a hook up. He could hear chatter around the bar, but he knew everyone's attention was on him. His audience was ready. In one swift motion, Eric grabbed her hair with his right hand and gently tugged at it, tilting her head backward. This caused her lips to part, slightly. Eric leaned in, gently placing his lips on hers and moved into a kiss. She was stiff in shock, but he persisted and felt her loosen. Her lips began to move with his and she embraced the kiss. He pulled her hair, and this excited her. She grabbed at his lapel and pulled him in, wildly kissing him back.

Everyone at the bar gawked in amusement. The object of everyone's desire had just been stolen from right under their eyes. The kiss lasted a few seconds. Eric then pulled away, patted her hair, smiled and walked back to his table. He felt good. He felt in control.

Amora walked out of the shower, dripping water over the hardwood floor. She wore a towel around her wet hair, and nothing else. One of the perks of living alone. She sat on the edge of her soft bed, damping the linen sheets, and lit a Marlboro. It had taken her seven months of patches, chewing gums and intense distress to quit the filthy addiction, but the events of the past few days wore her down and she was off the wagon. The plus side was it calmed her nerves and she was able to think clearly.

The initial shock of the Dems family massacre had worn off, albeit scarring her permanently. She knew everything Satan was doing was to avenge the grit she had shown by writing an article about him. He had obviously been operating in Heavens Alley since years, but he never left any conspicuous clues. Every time a body surfaced, the authorities suspected natural death. This time he had gone all out, no doubt to put on a show. She had to do something. She had to lure him out, provoke him to make a mistake, leave behind a clue. There was only one way to speak to him directly.

She was going to write a letter to him, and he was going to read it on Heavens Messenger.


Popular posts from this blog

The Theory of Everything (String Theory) and Collective Consciousness

The Bubbled World of an Introvert

The Paradox of Choice (Buridan's Donkey) and The Free Will