A Tree-lined Road?

There walks a girl, young in age, but her eyes tell a different story. They are working, looking at the ground, but moving. They do not see the pot-holed gravel drive. They see a heroine dressed in fine robes waiting at the balcony for her lover. The tears that fall from her delicate cheekbones shine like pearls as a messenger brings a blood soaked letter.

A bird startles from her approach and displaces a pipe along the nearby fence. The grating sound of metal on wood rings in her ears and she looks up, no longer seeing the bereaved heroine. Cool eyes search for the source of the noise and find none, not noticing the pipe. The mind begins to put together an explanation. Had it sounded like, claws, a blade? Yes, a blade.

Suddenly the eyes are busy once more, staring into the shadows as the feet never falter in their path toward home. She sees, instead of a crooked fence and heavy branches of familiar trees, the darkened pit of an alley, where the sound of a blade being drawn resonates. The gleam of it in the dim light signifies the dangerously sharp edge. Grime slides down the filthy building walls, as the metallic red shine of rodent eyes watch from the shadows. A figure steps forward, a wicked gleam in its eye matching the evil blade.

The feet speed up; trying to carry her away from the sight conjured by her mind.

The figure steps into the faltering light of a dying streetlamp to show greasy hair and unkempt clothes. Long pointed fingernails wrap around the blade, almost cutting into the hand of the holder. The fingernails are almost black with dirt and what appears to be old blood. What other lives had this poor man taken? A rotten grim stretches the grizzly features, showing yellowed teeth, jagged with misuse.

The feet sprint forward down the path known for years, dodging the potholes expertly running from the greasy figure. The blade is raised, already crimson in anticipation. Hands fly out as the legs bound up the steps to open the door. The light of a warm kitchen drown out the figure as the blade comes down. The girl slumps against the door and walks into the room of familiar faces and the smells of a good meal waiting on the table.

Thank goodness. She thinks, taking her place and bowing her head for the prayer before the meal. It was only a daydream.

(Author's Note: I hope you have enjoyed this. Any comments and criticisms are welcome. Please review. Thanks! ^_^ )