I saw her picture in a magazine. Her face was perfect, and I knew no male could unable to resist her eyes and lips. They were just his style. I tore the picture from the magazine, put it on my computer, scaled it up to my size. I printed it out.
She’ll plead innocent when she’s arrested.
I glanced at the male to my right, his hand resting on my thigh. He believed he was getting laid tonight. Too bad he didn’t know he was getting laid to rest. As I leaned against his shoulder, I pulled my Derringer from my handbag, pressed the barrel against his chest, pulled the trigger five times, then walked off.
Everyone saw her murder him.
When I got home, I’d be scraping back skin, putting her face back on her picture, then shredding it. Tomorrow I’d start another game, with another random human’s life.
150 Words
@LurchMunster
This is my entry into Rebecca Clare Smith‘s 55th #SatSunTales. Please, go read the other entries. It’s a tough challenge, and brings out some wonderful tales.
My Soul's Tears 