heathjacket
It had been raining for days, the constant pitter patter of the tiny drops of water had began to annoy me. Preventing me carrying out my daily tasks and enjoying the summer days! However, there was something quite beautiful about it, the reflections that bounced off the moving ripples as the light hit, created interesting and inspiring patterns.
The bright shine of the African sun shone in through the cracks in the curtains that were so hastily drawn last night, after such a disastrous evening of events. I drew them and stepped out through the double glass doors to sit on the beautifully carved wooden bench and watch the morning go by.
The late afternoon sun shone down on the golden marble, creating bright glimmers of light that would blind you if you weren't careful. The shadows that came from the surrounding trees rose high up the walls. Sounds of snapping cameras surrounded the area and echoed continuously, coming from the many tourists that were scattered around this remarkable piece of history.
I took my first step down the long staircase, as elegantly as I could. Just as I had been taught. One foot after the other, slowly, holding my long, draping dress up in my left hand, whilst my right slides gently down the banister as I descend. Everybody is waiting for me, watching in anticipation. Looking at my everybody move, just waiting for me to make a mistake; to trip up or lose my grip the ridiculously over-priced gown that hangs off my frame, tearing it and exposing more than intended. Or to drop my heavy diamond bracelet and step on it in my painfully high heels, shattering it and forever being known as the girl who destroyed some of the most precious jewels in the country. No. That won't happen. I've trained for this and I can do it.
It was misty outside, so much so that the view looked as if it had been drenched in some sort of heavy white coating. I liked it like that, mysterious. It was a sign that winter was fast approaching, the cold air closing in on the small, quite town which I lived in. My favourite time of year.
In the dead of night, while everybody is sleeping. Whilst all is quite. No witnesses but the moon. That's the perfect time. One foot after another. Eyes shifting from left to right. ever conscious of every sound, shadow or flicker of the nearest street lamp. He will strike. Again and again. Everybody expects it, they just don't know where, or what. Unpredictable. Dangerous. Sneaky. He remains un-named.
I am not willing to accept the terms of the agreement, but I was forced to sign it, upon my return. These terms are unreasonable and death shall follow. Death always follows, just as people always leave, and never return.
It was a dark night. I found myself just sitting there, alone, with only the light from a single candle that flickered as the draft from the old single-planed window blew in, gently. I was waiting for him to return. I would be waiting a long time.