Flirting With Death

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Yes,” the man in a black hooded cloak replied, “it’s a scythe.”

“And security let you in?”

“I let myself in.”

She slumped gracefully onto the adjacent barstool.

“So,” she leaned closer.  “Do you come here often?”

“Work takes me everywhere.”

“What kind of work?”  She smiled blandly, still unable to see his face.

“Acquisitions and Disposal.  I collect souls and dispose of the empty shell.”

“Oh…” her eyes widened.  “Are you here for me?”

He set an hourglass on the polished bar top, sand streamed into the lower bulb.  “All of you.”

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s