This is the third and final installment of my free Halloween flash fiction. I hope you enjoyed the ride.
And remember, you can get my latest novel A Taste of Honey for free next Monday and Tuesday only (that’s November 3rd and 4th).
The Shadow Dancer
Part Three: Revelation
I broke both his elbows before he took his first step. He wanted to retreat, to understand what happened, but I moved faster than his thoughts. I ducked down and punched him in the side of the knee with enough force to guarantee he would never walk again. He dropped to his other knee. His face tried to form a scream, but I moved faster than his voice. I stood over him, straightened my fingers into a spear and plunged my hand into his gaping mouth.
That must have been so horrible for his friends to watch. I’m sure they want to help, but how could their minds deal with what they saw? How could their bodies approach something so bizarre? One boy started to cry. The other peed on himself and screamed like a newborn child. But I didn’t blame them. I had my arm buried elbow deep into the big man’s mouth. They were just making the noise that he couldn’t make for himself.
I saw tragedy in my victim’s eyes. I witnessed his horror, his pain and his sanity crumbling at my feet. I held my arm in place for a moment, letting him flail around with his useless arms and scrape the ground with his broken leg. The smell of his emptied bowels overpowered the whiskey and smoke in the alley. My hand reached down so deep that I felt his heartbeat pumping with suicidal speed near my fingertips. I wanted to feel it burst in my hand. I wanted the ripe fruit of his life to drip through my fingers. But he didn’t deserve that. He deserved to live with the madness that came with this moment.
So I snatched my arm out of his mouth with a sticky wet slither. Then I turned my back on them and walked away. Another scream echoed between the walls as the big man crumbled onto the pavement of broken glass and used condoms. The muffled dubstep might have drowned out their shrieking, but I’m not sure. I danced into the shadows before anyone else showed up.
Now I’m writing this to try and understand what I am and what I’m doing here. I’m not worried about revealing whatever dark secret defines me. I’m writing this journal by hand so no one will ever find it. If someone does get it, they won’t ever read it and even if they do, no one will ever believe it. This is my story. I’m writing it for me.
I might be dead. I might be alive, but whatever I am, at least I’m not drowning in feces anymore and the only thing eating away at me now are the questions of my existence and the secrets trapped inside me.