Forgotten

Eternal and Sombre are best friends. Always have been, ever since Sombre moved into the neighbourhood. Sometimes, though, Eternal can't help but think that there is something strange about her best friend, something... inhuman. Sombre, on the other hand, only wants to be something more than friends. In a strange, twisted society, will either of them survive?

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6. Client of the Night (Sombre)

When Eternal had left, another entered. She was about 80, but oviously tried to hide her age behind centimetres of makeup. Her lips, for example, were a rose red, matching her painted cheeks. Her eyes were brushed in a sickening gold, clashing horribly with the stark, cracked whiteness of her skin. She wore on her flabby body, a tight-fitting floral cardigan watched with a pencil skirt. Who does she think she is, some duchess or something?!

"Sit down." I commanded, gesturing to plastic chair placed in the middle of the room.

The woman sauntered over, and perched on the chair.

"Aren't you a bit too young to get into the Black Market, young woman?" She quiered.

Glancing up from my work, I met her eye, giving her a deathly stare. No one ever calls me inexperianced. No one ever calls me young. Well, not if they don't want to be sleeping in the ground! I will forgive her, though, because this woman is offering good money for a pick from my stock.

"Well, shall we head down, then?" I asked, getting up and flitting over to the basement door.

It was more a command, so she walked over to me, wafting her vile, flowery perfume all around the room. It STINKED! I tried to ignore it, heaving open the door and proceeding down the concrete staircase.

"What sort of thing are you looking for?"

"Something small. Obediant, and small. Smells in here, doesn't it?"

"Yeeees...."

We decended more and more, wrapping ourselves in the filthy blackness.

Until there was no light.

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