What inspired me to write this piece? Wow, let's see. Um... all my fiction work is actually just...
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Walk of shame. That’s what they called it, right? I certainly felt shamed. I wrapped my parker coat as tightly as possible around my frozen body; the thin and crisp material barely reaching my knees, only hanging just below my dress. I had been out all night. I’m Grace and I’d spent the night out with my best friend Chastity. Who found it in her to leave me here in my short clothing and smudged make-up drowned in drink and shame. I was taking my walk of shame at six o clock
in the morning.
This was London, so even because of the peculiar time people were still up and about - and staring. They stared at me. They had all seen it before, the drunken teenager, the blonde with the short dress. But still they stared.
So, now there was a brunette with bright blue eyes in an extremely provocative dress wandering around London at night. Morning. Whatever. Grace Hammond you damn idiot.
I thought of home. Home. Just the very thought of it comforted my mind. I imagined crackling fires and roast dinners. I can remember the rain gently tapping and rolling down the window as I sat and watched TV with my border collie Lexi. I’d be home alone, I usually was. Father worked for the government, busy was an understatement. To say he lived in his office would be more adequate. We don’t talk about mother, ever. Father doesn’t want to. I don’t want to. There was no argument in that case. I try not to think of her. Would you think of your mother if she was killed, and killed was being delicate? Indelicate? She was murdered.
Then once again the thoughts of home swarmed my mind. I felt warm. Then reality hit me, home was three long and cold miles away. And once again, I felt very cold.
I sat down on a wooden bench.
In Memory of Elizabeth Benjamin
1956 – 2004
Death is just so intimidating isn’t it? I kicked of my heels, the heavy shoes landing about a meter away, and curled my feet around. I just needed to stop, just for one moment. I don’t know why. I wasn’t tired, I was just cold. And I only wanted to sit down for a short while.
It was quiet now. Eerie. In a sinister way. The last people that wandered this barren street had just dipped round a corner. Now I was alone. I was just scaring myself . I know that. Imagining the dark figures that meandered throughout London. The psychos and criminals. Sudden thoughts of the notorious jack the ripper filled my mind and I couldn’t help but let out a small whimper.
“That’s it!” I screeched. Making a lot more noise than I hoped so. A part of me, a stupid part of me hoping this was a way of scaring of the monsters. I bent down, my pale fingers reaching out towards my shoes. My bare feet on the dirty concrete ground, sending shivers up my spine.
Something moved. I swear something moved. It was a blur, a shadow? Just a trick of the light? It – was? Wasn’t it? That’s when I knew I should have run at that point. I knew I needed to run. But I didn’t. I stayed still, bent over, my hands just touching my shoes. Oh hell I should have run.
An Interesting Encounter,
Girly. That’s my name for her. I found her today, wandering around, chilled to the bone. A most amusing find, I must say so myself. And rather rewarding. I think she’ll be fun. Don’t you? She is rather selcouth, and rather beautiful. In an odd way. She must be the twelfth competitor, she must. And I will make her mine.
I already have all the others and the challenge is ready to be put into place. I think it is all going rather smoothly. She hates me. I know that.
But life is life, and life isn’t fair. I know that.