Dressed to Kill

Liam straightened the the sheath of the buck knife on the belt of his black jeans.

The onyx jewelled string tie adorning his cobalt blue shirt concealed a tiny dagger.

He rapped the heel of one snake skin boot and was pleased by the snick as the razor sharp blade sprung from the toe.

He adjusted the tension bands on his forearms, satisfied they would release the daggers when needed.

A quick check of the pockets of his leather jacket. Yes, three shuriken, one switchblade.

Curling a lip at his reflection he thought, "Now, there is one sharp dressed man."

Linking up with Lance and Leeroy
This is my 100 words inspired by ZZ Top’s Sharp Dressed Man.

Not Present

Exhaustion rolls across me in waves.

Confusion eroding intellect, twisting the mundane to the monstrous.  Frustration filing compassion to an angry blade of indifference.

Bits of humanity leached away on a desperate tide of tired.
 
Muscles numb with ache continuing their task by rote.  Shattered, scattered thoughts no longer involved in the process.

Mindless movement attempting to achieve a forgotten goal.

An empty shell worn smooth, tossed like so much flotsam in an ocean of things needing done, wanting finished, demanding attention that has wandered off with unrested distraction.

Leaving only tears to wash away the ashes of my dreams.


My take on Lance's 100WordSong: Falling to Pieces by the great Faith No More

Never Forget

 It should never have happened.  

Anne Marie had fallen for one of them.

She knew what he was.  

She'd stalked and destroyed enough of them.

But this one...so gentle.  Never threatening, never allowing her to see the predator within.

She lay beside him, softly brushing the hair from his forehead.  Placing her lips there, above his brow.

A tear threatened to escape.  A shuddering breath called it back.

She had made a mistake, forgetting who she was.

One last look at the crimson stained stake in his chest.  

He'd known what she was as well.  And, as well, had forgotten.

Joining Lance and Leeroy again, here are my 100 words inspired by Chasing Cars by Snow 

Borrowed Time

His heart beat against her breast in time with her own. One arm about her waist, the sleeve of his black jacket indistinguishable from the black sheath embracing her.

They floated around the dance floor as one.  The orchestral notes weaving a spell of desire.

A whisper so soft. "Don't let go..."

The final notes faded, overcome by the insistant shrill of dream's end.  They are drawn away from each other. Fingers lingering, tracing the curve of cheek, sweep of lips.

Each committing the other to memory as they are pulled apart.

"I'll come back for you."
 
"I'll be waiting."


Joining Leeroy for the 100 Word Song.  The 100 words inspired by Mumford and Sons’ I Will Wait.