Hunt

It was a dark and cold evening. He left his den. Outside air was opaque. He shuddered and took a step back.

He had been like on the prowl for several days. He had been following his prey with an uncanny skill. He could have pounced on her whenever he wanted. But he had deliberately delayed the final act. The intentional delay and suspense was an aphrodisiac and, like a depraved animal, he relished it more than anything else. He had relished it on every hunt.

Today was to be the day when the hunt would end. He wouldn’t wait any further; he couldn’t wait any further. But the fog deterred him. He laughed at his uneasiness.

He was waiting on one side of the road. She was about to leave the dancing school. Fog thinned momentarily. He could see her coming out of the door on the other side, as always with two other girls.

He knew the place where he would cross the road; he knew when and where he would pounce on her.

But perhaps he did not anticipate the destiny; he could not escape the all-powerful destiny.

By the time he reached the place where he was to cross the road the fog had thickened. He could not see the car which was hurtling down the road.

The car did not stop. The girl behind the wheel could hear his pain; there were tears in her eyes and a smile on her wan lips.

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A post for Three Word Wednesday