Haphazard Explorations & Experiments In Fiction
“Give me the knife.”
Arm outstretched, I waited for him to comply.
Instead of the blade, he gave me a word…
That is not what I want to hear.
“We all have a darkness in us Daniel.
I’m just not shy about serving mine, feeding it.
And you know I’d rather it devour you than me.
So give me the knife.”
Defiant to the last, he spit at my feet and repeated his answer:
His ever more frustrating one word answer.
As I brought my other hand up and out from behind my back, holding my other knife – the one he hadn’t known about – I could see the spark of realization in his eyes just before it reached his throat. As its edge met flesh I flicked my wrist. His neck opened up and his death began.
Sadness in my voice – or at least something resembling sorrow – I said something I never thought I’d be saying, not to him. “Kill or be killed when you come up against me Danny boy… you ought to have known that. Goddamned idiot, you should’ve known.”
Blood pooling around him on the ground, he was dead even before I finished talking…
Just as well though. The part of him that fascinated me, that thing he called a conscience, it was starting to take the fun out of everything. A bad character flaw I’m afraid; if there’s one thing I believe in it’s that life ought to be a fun ride.
Better to be rid of him sooner than later I suppose, and I truly couldn’t have asked for better circumstances. It was bound to come to this one way or another.
I had been forced to cut my losses before of course, and I did it without any hesitation each and every time. With him though… if he hadn’t forced my hand, put himself in such a bad position…. it might have been harder.
‘Thanks for that Danny Boy.’