Silk

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.

I am sane, I swear. I sometimes have a hard time walking with both feet “on the ground” so to speak, but I do know how to chameleon with reality. The cabin is not what one may imagine. My perception views cities like the woods. In the woods, creatures are everywhere. Some live in trees, some expand in the sky, and some walk the ground like royalty.

So, when I say woods, I mean New York City.

I have been living here for a while. It makes using my knife easy. There are too many murders and criminals to ever get caught. Besides, no one would ever suspect me. My office day job disguises me as I play demure, docile, and debonair.

I did not want to settle my eyes nor pay attention to the candle burning in that cabin. You see, I was on my way home with my basket. My basket masquerades as a black Prada bag and looks like it holds everything from a wallet, lipstick, phone and mints. It does. But, this evening it carried my knife too. I could smell the blood on it from my side shoulder, and the vision of his eyes begging for mercy before I slit him was flooding me with a voracious desire. I could not wait to get home, to caress the shiny blade, to stick it in my mouth and lick the blood off like a melting ice cream cone.

In case you are wondering who he is, the one whose blood is in my basket, his name was Kage. He had hired me for an hour at his penthouse. I know what you might be thinking. And no, I do not do that. Let me explain.

Centuries ago an ancestor of mine got caught up with a fringe cult somewhere down south. I do not know the exact details; it was hundreds of years ago. But, I do know a curse was brought upon him. That curse makes it so that every seven generations a child is born who is part wolf.

I do my best to temper my cravings. Sometimes I can no longer hold back. Thank God for adult advertising websites; they are the perfect place to score a bloody meal. I post a few photos and within hours more men pop up on my screen than the dinner options of a Cheesecake Factory menu. I discriminate on who I feast on, I promise. Their phone number must be traced to someone who has repeatedly been reported as being a bad client to other service providers. The more macabre their behavior is towards the women they hire, the tastier their blood.

Kage clearly thought I had sipped the drink he gave to me. He was clever. The drink looked like a goddess potion with colors of Hibiscus from Belize. I more than anyone know how looks can be deceiving. When he went to turn the volume up of The Cure’s Lovesong, I poured more than half of it onto his Lucky Bamboo plant.

When he approached me, he brought his hands to my neck and said, “I’m going to do to you whatever I please tonight.” I have to hand it to him. His sadism was powerful. I could feel my heart racing with desire. But, I did not come to meet him for his money, and certainly not for him to use me as his fantasy object.

I played a good game. As he began unzipping my dress, I surrendered, the way one is supposed to when coming across a bear in a forest. He smelled like a cigar and had me feeling the way I do when I walk by a television blaring CNN. Kage was strong; I knew I needed to get my knife in my hands ASAP if I wanted to leave without being raped. Thinking about the stories of his violations sent my alarms off as a reminder I was in dangerous territory.

I slipped out my next words as though they were slow moving honey dropping into a mug of tea, “I brought something for you; I think you’re going to like it.”

“You definitely did,” he spoke as though he had just laid his eyes on prey after a bad season of no game. “I’m not sure yet whether I like it or not.”

I wanted to vomit. His misogyny was putrid; I could practically taste his demons even though they had not yet fully manifested themselves. “I’ll be right back,” I whispered coyly into his ear as I slid out and under his grasp.

My heels clicked and clacked as I made my way to the Prada. I rummaged through her and when I grabbed the handle of my blade, my appetite went into a frenzy. I held her, Silk (the name I gave to this knife), behind my back and clicked back to Kage. I must have been moving like a dominatrix because he laughed a sinister chuckle and said, “Oh no, Sadie. I don’t play those games. I’m the master tonight.”

He clearly was not expecting what came next. My years of studying jiu jitsu allowed the rest of his annihilation to unfold like a graceful dance of horror. It was a Thursday evening and I wanted to get home before the reruns of my favorite show, so I drained him quickly. Normally I would have gone through his kitchen and found containers to store his blood, but I used towels instead. I could squeeze them later back home in my bathtub. Besides, I needed a new purse anyways.

Kage at least had the decency to leave the stack of hundreds on his dining table without me having to ask for it. Sometimes I would leave the scenes without any cash. It was not the paper I cared about, it was the liquid. Tonight was a double score. I would leave the scene with some scrumptious red along with the paraphernalia needed to replace what would get ruined by it.

The boulevards had an eerie quietude that evening. I was only five blocks from home when I saw the candle. I would never have given it a second glance if it were not for the window which it was occupying; the cabin had been abandoned for years. To the layman, this cabin might come across as a typical flat in New York City. But, my eyes come from a bloodline of part human and part wolf. Thus, the flat to me appeared as a cabin.

I was conflicted. My reruns would be starting soon and my salivating mouth could hardly wait another minute before drinking what was weighing my bag down. However, my curiosity overpowers me when it is evoked.

I walked up the stairs to the front door. The entire wooden porch gave off the feel of a haunted house at halloween. The overwhelming spiderwebs practically breathed. When I played with the doorknob, I discovered it was unlocked. Strange, I thought. Upon opening, the smell of death permeated. I walked inside and found a rotting corpse laying on a sofa. Covered in holes and grime, the sofa looked like it came from the 1800s.

The corpse had no blood so it was not worth anything to me. I couldn’t understand then how the candle had been burning. By the looks of the body it had been lying there for years. The candle which had originally summoned me inside beckoned me up the stairs. With each ascending step a following creaking ensued. What kind of a human would light a candle in the home of a rotting corpse and leave the body there? I thought.

Just as I was beginning to wonder about this scene, my eyes rested on the window sill of the candle. Up close I could see there were eight other flameless candles next to it. This candle was a part of a menorah. It was plugged in and on a timer. It then dawned on me that it was the first night of Hanukkah.