My Flower

     This world is plagued with an end, a shadow that is invariably feared.

     There, my next target. She stood stooped over, rummaging through a ragged case. Her long brunette hair cascaded around her like a silk waterfall. She pulled out something. A violin. She carried it with great delicacy, as a mother would hold her child. So she was a street entertainer. Interesting. People hustled past her, hardly noticing her presence. She stood up and slowly pressed the end of the violin to her thin, pale neck.

     Quietly, she began to play. Drip, drip, drip; her music trickled away, and yet no one noticed. She was in a world of her own.

     Then, her tempo sped up. The weight of her song intensified. It was a storm.

     People stopped to stare, enchanted by the music she had created, stepping away only when time pushed them along and hurried them to their awaited destination.

     She continued to play until sunset, where the sun kissed the horizon.

     I was a little disappointed when she packed away her things, carrying every motion with the greatest care.

     Ah, what a shame. I would have to take her soul soon, and then I could never hear her play again.

     It was dark as she wandered home, but it didn't seem to bother her. She walked with an unnatural courage, as if she were part of the consuming darkness.

     Two men strolled by, intoxicated. Their auras were dark and sinister. So this was how she would die.

     "Heyyyyy", slurred one guy. He grabbed hold of the girl. She was motionless, frozen with fear.

     "Let go of me," said the girl. Her voice was abnormally steady. It was almost casual the way she spoke, as if she had commanded a lesser to correct their mistake. How peculiar, she should have stuttered with fear. I came closer, taking a careful look at her face. It was stern, almost fierce. Her light brown eyes glinted with hatred. She was not frozen with fear. She was holding back her own rage.

     "Let go of me," she repeated.

     The men laughed. "Why? Don get so worked up we juss wanna have some funn."

     "Watch what you say." The girl glanced up in my direction, but there was no way she could see me. "We have an angel of death in our presence. It seems he's waiting for you."

     I stood motionless. Who was this girl? She must have been bluffing in order to escape. If only she knew I was there for her own soul. No, I am not an angel. I am only death.

     The men looked amused. They continued to tug at her arm. This seemed to aggravate her.

     She swung her case at the face of the nearest man and knocked him to the ground.

     "Hey! Whatdi you do that for!" the other yelled.

     "I warned you," she said as she swung her body around and kicked him square in the face. "Death is waiting for you."

     Both men lay unconscious.

     Strange, her frail body did not look like the type with that kind of capability. But then again, everything about that girl was strange.

     The girl looked down, disgusted. "However, your death will not be by my own hands."

     With that, she turned abruptly and stode to her original destination, as if what had taken place hardly affected her.