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Pure, Murderous Hate
There was an unmistakable expression on the stranger’s face. Pure, murderous hate.
It was very cold at 5:30 in the morning on a February day in Bridgeport, Connecticut. It seemed much colder for Sadie Moore who was about to feel the wrath of death invade her soul. She stood before a steel pole driven into the chilly earth as her hands were bound behind the pole.
"God, help me," she whispered.
"He won’t," the stranger echoed in a deep haunting voice. "I tried asking him for help,
and he failed me."
Sadie Moore sniffled as she heard the stranger’s voice coming in from a distance. However, it was clear.
"I don’t want to kill, but it’s the damn curse I have hanging over me," he started. "I blame my mother."
The stranger started thinking about the voodoo curse his mother had put on him. He thought about how she had cooked him a meal using her own menstrual discharge and put it in his food. She watched him eat it and later explained to him what she had done. She told him that she had full control over him, and he had to do her bidding. His father was a complete womanizer and slept with so many women. Which drove his mother to the state of madness. She wanted revenge, and she cursed her only son.
A foot scuffed the earth behind her. She closed her eyes and begged for God’s help as her prayers were tripping one over the other. The mumbling of her prayers proved fruitless as she felt the knife quickly enter from behind. It felt more like a punch than a stab as she crumbled awkwardly to the ground. The knife was covered with blood as the stranger pulled it out slowly. He wiped the blood off on his pants and repeatedly stabbed her again. The expression on his face was that of a madman. Her piercing screams caused no ripple on the surface of the sleeping city, other than to send pigeons towards the sky.
Dark shadows dribbled across the parking lot of an old abandoned warehouse on Railroad Avenue. Sadie Moore was in that parking lot fighting death for her last breath. She tried to catch a glimpse of the stranger, but her eyes had failed her. Death was coming on too strong.
She sensed lurking in the deepest shade close to the condemned building, dark ghosts wanting to take her away. They were forming a circle around her reminding her of all the evil things she did. She was a whore, and there was no need to use any other word to describe that fact. She knew it, and she also knew that someday she’d pay for selling her flesh. That day had come, and it came with vengeance. Finally, she saw no light, only darkness, then death. The stranger just stood there, he listened a little longer, and waited for Sadie Moore to bleed out. She did.
"God, can you help me, please?"
There was no answer.
© 2011 Frank Atanacio