Sacrifice

The killer watched his victim undress.

“What’ll it be, honey?” the victim asked, completely unaware of the inherent danger.

“My interests are purely idée fixe,” the killer replied, his voice silken honey and deep as hell. “What you do from here on out, is irrelevant.”

“So, you just wanna watch, huh? Same price. I don’t do discounts.”

The killer waved expansively. “Lie down, if you please, in the center of this circle.”

The victim studied the arcane patterns carved into the wooden floor, their grooves dark and sticky looking. The wood itself was burnished rouge, like a layer of skin had been recently removed. She thought it kind of pretty, in a creepy sort of way.

Kneeling, the victim moved around until positioned, then looked up thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose you care to know what my status is, huh?”

“Your status? Irrelevant.”

“You’re sure? Because it kind of looks like you’re trying to perform a sacrifice and I really don’t think I’m eligible for the position.”

The killer sneered, “You think I care whether you are a virgin or not? I knew you were no virgin the second I laid eyes on you.”

The victim blinked. “Yeah, congratulations on being observant, but l still don’t think you understand.”

“Enough!” the killer thundered. “Lie down and shut up!”

“I really think you should…”

“Desist!’

“No, really, I think you should…”

“SILENCE!”

The victim threw up her hands in exasperation and flopped back onto the floor with a thud. Her hands came down to settle into opposing armpits.

“I’m a zombie.”

The killer’s face purpled, a fist raised high and teeth bared. The look was quickly replaced by sober realization.

“You’re a what?”

“A zombie. Undead, you know? Been that way for about sixty years…”

YOU’RE A WHAT!!???” The killer’s face was purple again, like a very angry bruise.

The victim glared. “You really should have asked about my status.”

The killer trembled visibly, breathing erratic.

“I tried to tell you, but would you listen? Nooooo…”

Through clenched teeth, the killer growled, “Oh, shut up and go.”

“You’re loss,” the victim said, rising and stepping out of the circle. “I still expect to get paid. Time is money and you may have wasted yours, but I sure as hell didn’t. Fork it over, amateur, or I’ll eat your brain.” She studied him closely. “Not much of a meal, if you ask me…”

KillingTimeborder

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