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Life and Death and the Girl with the Scarf
by Robert the Swordsman
Rainy night gave way to
moist morning, overpowered by the sun's
sympathy for humanity, though the
benevolent celestial body couldn't do much
for the cold. A green-skinned man
with vines for hair and azure sunglasses
wandered out of an alley and in to
the street, just in time to meet the last
lingering light leaking lazily
from a lamp-post, one which would soon bid
the world good morning by
submitting to an honorable extinguishment. Water
dripped from his leafy
hands and hair, his white shirt and black tie
thoroughly saturated, thin
lips epitomizing frownless features, and a look
of finality hanging on the
peculiar creature's face, though it wasn't quite
a smile. He had found
her.
The girl had been running. Machine-gun breaths seemed to get
tangled
about her tongue and lips as they frantically made their way in and
out of
her, blue eyes like narrow columns of light beaming beneath wet
strands of
hair colored like wrought-iron. Her whole body pulsated
rhythmically, frosty
clouds accumulating and dissipating in front of her in
the morning air. Her
red and white-striped scarf appeared to be floating; a
perpetual icy breeze
was trying to steal it from her, but one of her cold
hands only pulled it
closer, while the other gripped a very silver knife,
the quivering blade
held low, but in the green man's direction
nonetheless.
He raised a verdant hand, which in turn raised a
pistol.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, seeming genuine. "It is your
time."
The girl made no particularly drastic motion, though subtle
glances
were sent sprawling across the horizon and everywhere else, looking
for
something, anything. Her eyes widened gently and settled on a crack in
the
sidewalk. With a fluid grace that she had not expected of herself, she
reached down and plucked a soft scarlet flower that had bravely been growing
amongst the concrete, memories of the morning rain sent in all directions as
she hastily pulled the viridian stem to her. This gave the thieving wind the
opportunity to relieve her of her helpless scarf, and neither of them
watched as it was carried away.
The green man lowered his eyebrows
as the girl held her shivering blade
to the flower's stem, right below the
petals. Her breaths became longer, her
gaze never leaving his.
"I'll
do it," she growled, drawing the knife nearer to the innocent
blossom,
threatening to drag the edge across its long emerald neck.
For at least
a moment, the world stood still. The green man gently
lowered his leafy
hand, taking with it the argent armament, and there were
another few seconds
of hesitation before the girl took a deep, sharp breath
and then dashed off
down the alley. She was already just a shadow in the his
mind.
"I
suppose... it wasn't time just yet."
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