Fresh Meat

Sometimes walking home alone late at night can be hazardous to other people's health.

Her heels clicked a steady rhythm down the sidewalk, her shadow growing before her until it was drowned in the pool under the next streetlight and replaced with its double, the process repeating over and over as she made her way down the empty street. Far ahead, she saw the lights of her subway station, but before that, she would have to pass a trio of creeps lounging against a grimy brick wall. Apart from them, she could have been the last person in the city. As she approached, they all leered openly in her direction, making it as plain as they could that she was there for their perusal. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at this repugnant behavior, not wanting to give them the slightest excuse for any trouble. She just fixed her eyes straight ahead, hurried her step a little, and vowed to get past them without reacting at all. She'd had a long and crappy day, and was in no mood at all for any kind of hassle.

As she crossed in front of them, almost choking on the beer reek that billowed from their midst, the tallest of them crossed his arms, licked his cracked lips theatrically, and said, “Hey boys, fresh meat.” He drew the words out, lingering over them to savor each one before letting it loose. He pushed himself away from the wall with a jerk of his shoulders, leaning close to her, almost nudging her shoulder with his oily nose. She could sense him behind her, making a show of checking out her a*s for his friends. She gritted her teeth and walked on. Don’t let him bug you, she told herself. Nothing you can do to him is worse than having to live the s****y life he’s stuck in. It was cold comfort, and would have been even if it were true.

Then, the sound she was dreading. The soft slap of his sneakers on the sidewalk. She picked up her pace a little, as did the footsteps behind her. An off-duty taxi cruised past in the wrong direction, but she waved at it anyway. The driver, in a show of empathy rare in this city, actually looked in her direction before ignoring her. She heard a low chuckle from behind, closer than she expected, and she broke into a run, purse clutched close to her body.

She heard his footsteps hesitate for a moment behind her. Was he wondering if he was willing to take this to the next level? She thought for a fleeting instant that his better nature, or more likely just his fear of the police, might win out. But on these deserted streets it wasn’t hard to imagine oneself getting away with almost anything, and what had been slow plodding steps suddenly matched her own pace.

She chanced a look back�"he was maybe forty feet behind, not drawing closer, but not losing ground, either. His lank hair flew wildly as he ran unevenly after her, drunk enough for this to seem like a good idea, but not so drunk that he couldn’t pull it off. She wondered what else besides the beer might be in his system, egging him on. Far behind him, his two buddies were looking uneasily at each other, unprepared for anything beyond catcalls this night.

She ran on. The subway station might have a few people, but at this hour, in this part of the city, a security guard or actual cop was unlikely. He could easily take her down right there where the harsh fluorescents glared off the tile, late-night riders suddenly vanishing from the scene. She could defend herself, but not there, not in front of the security cameras.

She made her decision. It was risky, but on these deserted streets, she thought she could get away with it. She veered abruptly into an alley, dropping her purse in a pool of light about 20 feet in and leaping nimbly on top of a Dumpster. She was afraid her dress was going to be ruined, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that now. He'd pushed it too far. She really liked this dress, too. She continued upward on a fire escape; nobody ever thinks to look up.

The slap-slap of the sneakers came closer, until the man appeared at the mouth of the alley, clearly winded, almost falling over as he made the turn. He ran as far as her purse, then stopped to pick it up, panting like he was about to drop. He looked down the alley, but seeing no one, walked cautiously forward, scanning for hiding places. Shaking his head, he stopped to root through the purse, hoping to walk away with at least something to show for his efforts. Behind him, he heard a faint rattling, like the wind blowing through a fire escape, followed by the softest of thumps, as if a cat had jumped delicately to the ground. He jumped a little, and he paused in rummaging through the purse to turn around.

There was a much louder thump as the purse dropped unheeded to the asphalt. He found himself staring at a wall of black fur about a foot from his face. It made no sense. His gaze was drawn upward to a massive head that stared down at him with glowing red eyes and a mouth packed with teeth like ivory blades. A string of saliva dripped down, just missing his foot. Hot, moist breath like a breeze from a sauna chuffed into his face. The creature was wearing the tatters of a dress that looked very familiar, and held a pair of bright red high heels in one claw. It tilted its head to the side like a dog hearing a funny noise and he could have sworn that that gaping razor mouth grinned. He felt very, very cold. He wanted to run more than anything he had ever wanted in his life, but he couldn’t move. It leaned forward, black nose almost touching his, and a voice like gravel and tar said, “Ahhh, fresh meat.” There were indeed worse things she could do to him than the s****y life he was stuck with, but he wasn’t stuck with it for very long.

Author's Note

This was just a really short, really quick piece I wrote to get in some work on creating atmosphere. Creepy atmosphere, mostly. Did it work?

Reviews

[Rachael Day]

Wow! That was an unexpected twist!! I was fully invested and prepared for something to happen to the female character and was totally shocked by your ending! Love the creepy, deserted, late-night atmosphere too. Bravo!! :)