The Little Death

It was a Wednesday night. Just like any other Wednesday night. The crisp winter air numbed her nose, and with each exhale a cloud of warmth would escape. Her keys rattled against her fingers, in sync with the drumming in her ears. As she passed by closed shops and bakeries, she would catch small glimpses of herself. Her hair in disarray from the stressful day at work, her ghostly skin from the absence of sunlight, and her small face which never seemed to be striking. A small tug pulled her lips into a disappointed frown. She turned her head as to avert her gaze from that pale woman that followed her home. The sound of metal scrapping against stone startled her, and in her mouth the taste of rust encroached. Her eyes widened as she saw another shadow grow larger, and in the reflection of the settled rain did that pale woman grin in anticipation. A boney hand entered her periphery and slowly, but deliberately turned her to face it. Her eyes watered when she saw it, and even though her sight did not betray her, she could not identify what it was. From her shoulder, the hand moved up and pressed itself against her cheek, now wet with her tears, as if to soothe her. A rattled breath escaped its mouth, and liquid silver began to pour out. She took a step backwards, only to fall, the dark blue of the sky and the soft glow of the moon swiftly waltzed into her vision.

We’re Waiting for Something but We Don’t Know

ELIZABETH KIASER

It leaned over, its predatory eyes now revealed from underneath its hood. The edges of its mouth separated further, to reveal a row of glinting daggers, and in each one she could see that pale woman staring back. Its teeth, coated by metal and illuminated by bright moonlight, pulled back to reveal its slicked tongue. She saw its fingers reach up and smear the reflective drool across its face as it leaned in. As its fangs rained down upon her chest, she could not help but let her eyes slowly close. The rapid drumming in her ears began to slow, as the trembling in her fingers ceased. That pale woman’s wide grin was all she felt, and she knew Death was finally within her grasp. As her heart was revealed, pounding in panic for its home had been ransacked, she noticed that she did not feel that infernal pain that was always talked about in hushed whispers. Warmth from its hearth glided down her sides and over her thighs. A pool began to envelop her small frame, soaking her hair and her clothes. She opened her eyes and as her long eyelashes parted for her view, she was allowed one last glance at that silver laced mouth with those glowing eyes. When she could no longer fight the allure of her desire, she felt a final kiss press against her mouth, as if the moon itself leaned down to bid her its last farewell.

BY ELIZABETH ENG