I sat, staring off at at him through my raven fringe, my raven bangs. Dark hair, dark eyes, tan skin, a thick Jamaican accent that coated the words, as he sang a bad rendition of a marijuana smoking reggae singer's only decent song. He'd be decent. Decent prey. The dreamy eyed girl sat next to me, a Southern accent coating the words that slipped through her pink lips, the words of an innocent, warm hearted girl who was hoping to make it big in the Big Apple. Perfect prey. Innocent. Trusting.
She wouldn't know what was occurring until it had.
My jaws ached behind my red lips, the points aching to appear, as I ached for my prey. She was asking Mister Barkeep Sir to please serve her up another Alabama Slammer, the drink that was named after her home state. Silly girl, trusting the strangers who ignored her.
Soon she'd be in the back alley.
Soon she'd be prey.
P.S. Yes, that's Lavender, no, this isn't actually a part of the legacy. I took the photograph and was inspired by it. ☺
Wow, interesting, her dark hair and red lips are intriguing. She's really pretty.
ReplyDeleteThank you; she's actually the bartender, I just aged her down to a young adult, gave her black CC hair and new, darker makeup. :)
DeleteThanks for reading!