by Amanda Mackey
July 22, 2020
Genre: Dark Romance, romantic suspense
Death
I'm the Grim Reaper
My face is the last thing my victims see
I take life without blinking
Bred this way by the devil himself
The asshole who raised me
When the time comes, I'll bury him too
In the meantime, the little starling feeding the birds in the park has my full attention.
Raven colored hair
Disarming eyes that infuse my dead heart with oxygen
The broken pieces of me want her to put me back together
But the monster is calling to come out and play.
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star....
Raven colored hair
Disarming eyes that infuse my dead heart with oxygen
The broken pieces of me want her to put me back together
But the monster is calling to come out and play.
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star....
Crow: I stand in darkness. I am the darkness. The maroon, velvet drapes are pulled tightly closed, shutting out the world as I attempt to quiet my mind. Visions stole time again last night, robbing me of sleep. The monster lurking. Always there. Voices like background noise never leave. Pain so deep, nightmares constantly speak to me.
My dedicated martial arts room failed to pacify me this morning after a grueling workout with knives and swords. I need more. A kick of pain greater than my bare limbs can provide.
Using the straight edge of my trusted friend, I slice the final letter into the skin on my torso, making sure it’s back to front so when read by another, it will make sense. The smell of sweet metal a hit to my senses. Heady. Intoxicating. I feel the upward and downward strokes, not needing to see. The sharp tip stops its journey and I let the knife drop to the floor, sated. I allow my fingers to brush across the wound, gathering the red nectar and placing it to my parched lips. The workout has left me dehydrated so when I swallow and allow the fine liquid to coat my throat, I let out a groan of relief.
My body is a work of art. Ink covering half of it. This new tattoo is another piece to the puzzle.
The bright lights shooting like laser beams through the cross-barred windows have me squinting. The ornate gold mirror to my right, allows me to view the masterpiece. With my chest bare and a pair of sweats hanging under my hip bones, I grin broadly.
It’s complete. I’m branded. I finally have a name. An identity even he can’t steal from me.
CROW.
My dedicated martial arts room failed to pacify me this morning after a grueling workout with knives and swords. I need more. A kick of pain greater than my bare limbs can provide.
Using the straight edge of my trusted friend, I slice the final letter into the skin on my torso, making sure it’s back to front so when read by another, it will make sense. The smell of sweet metal a hit to my senses. Heady. Intoxicating. I feel the upward and downward strokes, not needing to see. The sharp tip stops its journey and I let the knife drop to the floor, sated. I allow my fingers to brush across the wound, gathering the red nectar and placing it to my parched lips. The workout has left me dehydrated so when I swallow and allow the fine liquid to coat my throat, I let out a groan of relief.
My body is a work of art. Ink covering half of it. This new tattoo is another piece to the puzzle.
The bright lights shooting like laser beams through the cross-barred windows have me squinting. The ornate gold mirror to my right, allows me to view the masterpiece. With my chest bare and a pair of sweats hanging under my hip bones, I grin broadly.
It’s complete. I’m branded. I finally have a name. An identity even he can’t steal from me.
CROW.
Aria: My throat closes and I feel my entire face stretch in surprise as a dark figure steps from the shadows. A gray hoodie is pulled down over his face, revealing only a glimpse. It’s enough to discover a full mouth surrounded by scruff. His jeans and combat boots don’t tell me much about who he is. Snippets of tattoos peak out from under his clothing, imparting a thug-like appearance. If I were someone who judged, I’d have him summed up already, but I know all too well, appearances can be deceiving.
The air changes. His vibe is one of power. Rigid stance. Confident gait. I feel frazzled.
I stand and take a deep breath, attempting to pull my newfound anxiety back in. He stops. I’m not sure what to say or do as we both inspect each other, although I can’t be sure he’s watching me as his eyes are cloaked in the shade of his hoodie. It’s something I feel more than I know.
“Hi there,” I begin, attempting to be friendly.
He does a short, crisp whistle and my newest feathered friend retreats back to the stranger before the giant of a man, leans down and picks up the crow, placing him on his shoulder.
“Oh. It’s your bird. I didn’t know. I hope you don’t mind me feeding him.”
His body language is cold and standoffish. His hands are pressed against thick thighs. I feel vulnerable, him being able to see my face but me not being able to see his.
I wait for a response but receive nothing. He simply freezes.
Beginning to feel more uneasy, I turn and offer a small wave with, “Well, I’ll see you. I need to get to work.”
I hurry away, leaving the other birds on the grass as I turn back once to see him still facing me. Odd man.
The air changes. His vibe is one of power. Rigid stance. Confident gait. I feel frazzled.
I stand and take a deep breath, attempting to pull my newfound anxiety back in. He stops. I’m not sure what to say or do as we both inspect each other, although I can’t be sure he’s watching me as his eyes are cloaked in the shade of his hoodie. It’s something I feel more than I know.
“Hi there,” I begin, attempting to be friendly.
He does a short, crisp whistle and my newest feathered friend retreats back to the stranger before the giant of a man, leans down and picks up the crow, placing him on his shoulder.
“Oh. It’s your bird. I didn’t know. I hope you don’t mind me feeding him.”
His body language is cold and standoffish. His hands are pressed against thick thighs. I feel vulnerable, him being able to see my face but me not being able to see his.
I wait for a response but receive nothing. He simply freezes.
Beginning to feel more uneasy, I turn and offer a small wave with, “Well, I’ll see you. I need to get to work.”
I hurry away, leaving the other birds on the grass as I turn back once to see him still facing me. Odd man.
Amanda Mackey was born in New Zealand and moved to Australia when she was 12 years old with her family, where she has lived ever since. She has loved books since an early age and is an avid reader. This has helped lay the foundation for her writing. She's published 7 novels to date with plenty more on the way. An author with Limitless Publishing, she loves to spend time with family when she's not writing or reading.
Amanda hopes to make writing her full time career and travel in the near future. giveaway!
Amanda hopes to make writing her full time career and travel in the near future. giveaway!