Than You’ll Ever Know
by Gary Moore
The dark figure poured blood from his wide-opened arms.
He had asked for a hug.
Who could ask such a thing in such a manner?
The young woman backed away from the sight of them two men
in the bathroom.
One lied in a pool of his own blood, and the other one had
been drinking it.
And eating.
Sven took a step towards her, dripping and oozing blood from
his morning repast, and his back now felt mighty good.
He had adjusted his spine.
The girl who said she was “Shelly” looked quite tasty to him.
Shelly said, “You been up to some bad shit.”
Sven nodded. He took
another step.
Shelly said, “I know what’s going on.”
Sven paused. This piqued his curiosity.
She said, “We both been down there.”
Sven cocked his head.
Who was this girl?
He said, “Down where?”
She said, “Don’t fuck with me. I know what you are doing here and now.”
Sven threw his arms up and as he did, a large couple of
slings of dark blood flew up and forward and fell onto Shelly. He tilted his head back and howled.
Sven laughed and shouted at the ceiling. He said, “Then you know what I have in mind
for you!”
But Shelly didn’t move.
Sven’s shoulders slumped and he lowered his arms. He looked at this brazen tart before him.
Who was she? She had
not run off, nor had she slipped in the splotches of dark liquid in the
hallway, fallen, and then made herself vulnerable for his next meal.
She had stood her ground.
He said, “Shelly? Are
you a shell, or a shill? Are you Shilly?”
She licked her lips.
She was hungry.
She said, “My real name is Sherry, not Shelly. Who are you?’
Sven got the shivers.
Here was someone who had a fucking clue.
He did not know how to respond.
And, do you know, everything depended on this thing.
Sven did not have a
clue.
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
No comments:
Post a Comment