Making food always made him feel both happy and sad.
Every morsel that left his kitchen was a love note to those who ordered it.
A loving response was an empty plate that came back, ready to be cleaned for a new missive.
Leaving food on the plate meant rejection and left him wondering what went wrong.
I remember the child sitting on my lap. “What would it take for you to do this one thing for me?” he had asked. They warn you about this when you join the corps, but it still amazes you when you hear it.
That’s why I stopped in my tracks and thought hard once I was in the man’s bedroom. What the kid was asking me to do came naturally. Still, I hated the son of a bitch for what he had done to the boy, so I wanted to gift the man something more. All it would take is a slight twitch and justice would be served. I had killed many a person, young and old, male and female, but never while they slept, not in cold blood. That was not who I was, at least not now.
I sheathed my blade and left his son’s note. I thought about leaving a bit of coal behind to emphasize that I saw his naughty ass and if I had wanted he would have been mine, but I am a man of the red cloth. “What would it take? I may only play a saint, but a devil I am not.”
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But he didn’t have the money to pay
It made him feel really bad, but he had been so hungry
Leaving the slip on the table with an “I’m sorry” note
Larry couldn’t really enjoy his first meal in three days as he ran away
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Cutting out the little pieces of paper
Ronald began arranging them
As he did, he thought of Alexa
Finding this would give her a lot of hope
Though it would be more bittersweet
You would think a ransom note would bring a bit more joy
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Another note greeted Mike
But he refused to look at it yet
Allowing himself a chance to down a scotch
Determined to stop this cycle
It came to him maybe he should set fire to the thing
Deny he had ever seen it
Even maybe go to the police about it
At last, he opened it and groaned at what he read
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It didn’t make Mike happy that he killed that poor woman
No, that wasn’t right. He did it because of that damn blackmail note
There was no way he was going to let his blackmailer get away with it though
Reviewing hours of video was something he used to do as a private eye
It wasn’t his favorite part of a horrible job, but he was good at it
Grabbing his coffee he slowed down the frames
Unable to believe what he was seeing he checked it fifteen times
Everything finally made sense, and he had his lead
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Finally, Penny had him to himself
It would soon be over, one way or the other
Reaching for her gun, she didn’t notice him pull one himself
Eventually, the police found her body with a bloody blackmail note
Penny jogged down the block, her iPhone drowning out the world
Under all that workout sweat her blood ran cold
Someone had left a note explaining what she had to do to not be exposed
Her job was now to decide to murder or be murdered
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Silence wrapped its hands around her throat
Containing the sounds that wanted to escape
Racing pulse rate filled in the empty soundscape
Except she was the only one to hear it’s percussive note
As the room began to grow gray, then black
Making a noise seemed the least of her concerns
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
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Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
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Never Short On Words 