It happened again. I know I said it wouldn’t, but sometimes the shadows stir inside me and I have to feed them.
He had it coming… the lying, cheating bastard. Married men should know better. I did his wife a favor.
I can still see the shocked look on his stupid face as his lifeforce drained out. Swimming in a crimson pool. I cut off his finger – wedding ring and all – and kept it as a souvenir.
It had been so long since the others. I thought it might be difficult. It wasn’t.
Just like riding a bike.
PHOTO PROMPT © Jellico’s Stationhouse
A nice little macabre story for a Sunday morning, no? This is written for the weekly flash fiction challenge, Friday Fictioneers. Check out the other 100-word gems of flash fiction here. Many thanks to our lovely host, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.