Link to Paragraph Five: http://m-a-w-h.blogspot.com/2012/01/blog-tag-1-para-05.html
Tamara rolled the dice. They flew across the dirty concrete of the alley, hit the grimy wall and bounced and tumbled until they came to rest; a perfect double six. “Mine I think.” she said, allowing the smoke from her cigar to float up into the bright blue Cuban sky. She’d come a long way to get these two, stepping into the slip then out again at just the right moment. She’d known exactly where to find them; the same broken down hotel where they’d raped her repeatedly all those years ago. If only they’d known what she really was and had cared a little more for their pathetic souls and a little less for their even more pathetic dicks. It wasn’t the sex that had annoyed her, it was the way they’d rifled her purse when they’d finished, throwing a few coins onto the bed where she lay huddled and feigning terror. They’d left laughing, slapping each other on the back and tossing her purse back into the room. Well, they wouldn’t be laughing much longer. ‘Time to pay up,’ she said as she shifted; and the short fat Cuban who was Tamara, the one with the cigar clenched firmly between his teeth, began to smoke gently, small flames bursting into life across the surface of his grubby white suit. WHOOSH! And Tamara stepped out of the pillar of fire reaching for her rapists. “Mine I think.” She repeated as she walked towards them, her soft platinum hair moving in the still air as if it were alive. She puckered her lips and blew them a kiss, the skirt of her flowing white dress floating up as if caused by a subway grill beneath it. “Remember me boys? Yes, I thought so… and I remember you, I remember you both very well”. Walking towards them, her hands tuning to balls of flame, she reached out. “Time to pay your dues,” she snarled: “happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday Mr. President…” They turned to run, but she was on them before they’d taken a single step. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” She said, crossing herself for effect… and then they were. All that remained were two piles of soft white ash where the rapists had been standing only a spit-second earlier. Tamara turned towards the wall, reaching down she picked up the dice; she always liked to bring something back from her travels and these would make a nice addition to her collection. Oh well, on to the next job, there was still so much chaos to cause and she didn’t want to be late for her meeting with the others; horsemen could get so impatient. Stepping forward, she felt the slip as it enclosed and entered her and then she was simply gone leaving only a giggle behind.
Thanks again go to akh there.
Link to Paragraph Seven: http://m-a-w-h.blogspot.com/2012/01/blog-tag-1-para-07.html
Tamara rolled the dice. They flew across the dirty concrete of the alley, hit the grimy wall and bounced and tumbled until they came to rest; a perfect double six. “Mine I think.” she said, allowing the smoke from her cigar to float up into the bright blue Cuban sky. She’d come a long way to get these two, stepping into the slip then out again at just the right moment. She’d known exactly where to find them; the same broken down hotel where they’d raped her repeatedly all those years ago. If only they’d known what she really was and had cared a little more for their pathetic souls and a little less for their even more pathetic dicks. It wasn’t the sex that had annoyed her, it was the way they’d rifled her purse when they’d finished, throwing a few coins onto the bed where she lay huddled and feigning terror. They’d left laughing, slapping each other on the back and tossing her purse back into the room. Well, they wouldn’t be laughing much longer. ‘Time to pay up,’ she said as she shifted; and the short fat Cuban who was Tamara, the one with the cigar clenched firmly between his teeth, began to smoke gently, small flames bursting into life across the surface of his grubby white suit. WHOOSH! And Tamara stepped out of the pillar of fire reaching for her rapists. “Mine I think.” She repeated as she walked towards them, her soft platinum hair moving in the still air as if it were alive. She puckered her lips and blew them a kiss, the skirt of her flowing white dress floating up as if caused by a subway grill beneath it. “Remember me boys? Yes, I thought so… and I remember you, I remember you both very well”. Walking towards them, her hands tuning to balls of flame, she reached out. “Time to pay your dues,” she snarled: “happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday Mr. President…” They turned to run, but she was on them before they’d taken a single step. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” She said, crossing herself for effect… and then they were. All that remained were two piles of soft white ash where the rapists had been standing only a spit-second earlier. Tamara turned towards the wall, reaching down she picked up the dice; she always liked to bring something back from her travels and these would make a nice addition to her collection. Oh well, on to the next job, there was still so much chaos to cause and she didn’t want to be late for her meeting with the others; horsemen could get so impatient. Stepping forward, she felt the slip as it enclosed and entered her and then she was simply gone leaving only a giggle behind.
Thanks again go to akh there.
Link to Paragraph Seven: http://m-a-w-h.blogspot.com/2012/01/blog-tag-1-para-07.html
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