Little Miss Scarlett

Scars run down his face, large and vicious. Her claws had dug deep that fated night. But his head rang thoughts of revenge, to do the same to her pretty face.

One raunchy evening, drunk as he’ll, he had called a number he got from a friend. The voice was soft, seductive. They talked for over an hour, agreeing with some monetary exchange for her ‘services’. A short term hotel room was their meeting place, her supple body his for a time. But in his stupor, he must confess, his fist had raised at a slight discrepancy in their agreed terms. Her hands were like lightning to his face.

He lost everything that month. His wife, the kids departed, his home foreclosed and his job cut from him. A year had passed, and still his anger raged. His fingers clenched the gun tight, as he watched her take in another fool. He snuck around, hiding behind bushes, as the hour dwindled down. His hand jersey up, a shot rang out. Down went the fool, but Scarlett had not stepped out.

He burst through her door, her name on his lips. She was nowhere to be seen. He grew ever more furious. From around the corner she stepped, calm as ever. Her clothes slid off, and he shut the door. First her body, he thought, as she drew closers, then her life. But when she neared, she kissed his scars gently. The anger began to fade, lust taking over. But what he didn’t see coming was a knife through his throat.

“No man will ever best Scarlett.” She smiled. Then everything faded.

Image source here:


This is a different kind of story for me. I’m not usually into this kind of macabre storytelling, more for the other types of dark storytelling. Let me know what you guys think below.


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