Flash Fiction

Emerald Cut

Canyon Song

A Lovely Evening to Die

Light glints off glasses of colorful liquid lined up before him. He senses her before she comes into view—his next victim. He can feel her curiosity, her shyness, and as he lifts a glass to his lips, he raises his eyes to meet hers in the mirror behind the bar. Icy blue to gentle brown. His harshness to her softness. His madness to her sanity. A predatory smile spreads slowly across his face, and he can almost taste her fear. And yet, she makes her way to the stool beside him and whispers, “It’s a lovely evening to die.”