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Short stories

By Kittylover118 All Rights Reserved ©


A Night Out

 A night out. A night dedicated to city life after dark. Eighteen year olds, celebrating adulthood and adults celebrating something long forgotten. The hustle and bustle of the city, is a wonder to e, even now, after all these years. Bright lights, loud music, toxic fumes and twenty year old zombies walking the streets. As beautiful as this city is, it has ugly secrets. Things that go on behind closed doors. The exchanging of money for a body or pills, the scream of help from a dark alley, shunned from all light. A night out.

 It smells funny in the city. It smells like alcohol, money and lies. I do not like the city. Everything in the city is related to sin: Lust, greed, wrath. Sins can be found in every alley, every office building and every vengeful murder. I need to cleanse the cities, and make them perfect and safe from sin. A safe haven. A new Eden.

 “Excuse me,” I ask a young man gently. “Do you know where I can find a mister Evan Ivashkov?”

The young man, probably no-older than twenty-five, pointed towards a night club across the road. The bright, luminescent blue lights spelt the words ‘The Blue Lily’.

 I nodded my thanks to the young man and began to make my way to the crossing, weaving through groups of friends and stag and hen parties. I pulled out my phone, tapping a quick message to Sam, who should be ready and in place by now. I was ready and willing to make this city a better place.

I walked into The Blue Lily and had to wait a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the flashing lights. I walked as quickly as I could over to the bar. Sure enough, Sam was behind it, cleaning an empty pint glass with a dirty, old rag.

“Hey,” He shouted over the rumble of chatting bodies and loud music. He leaned over the bar as I took a seat.

“Hey,” I nodded. “Can I have a whiskey please?” I asked, pulling out a few crisp bills and handing them over. He nodded and as quick as lightning handed me a small glass filled with the fiery liquid. I threw it back mercilessly. Sam smiled.

 “Busy night?” He asked.

“Hardly.” I replied. “Where is he?”

 Sam’s face suddenly became serious. He leaned closer again. “See that dark corner over there? Right at the back.” He nodded towards the corner of the club that was masked by darkness. “There’s a door there that leads to the back of the building. I saw them walk through there.” He took a step back and picked up the rag.

“Thanks.” I said, face set, determined. As I went to get off the stool, Sam said gruffly,

“If you’re not back in five minutes, I’ll get back up. Got it?”

I looked at him and sighed. “Got it.”

The Night air wasn’t as cold as I remembered. Even with a leather jacket on, winter’s frost still broke through, making my hair stand up on end. There was no Ivashkov outside. He must’ve left. Cursing myself, I went to open the door again, but I stopped. There was a sound not too far away, muffled voices, a bang and a crash. He had not left.

I ran down the stretch of alley, and came to a halt outside a small loading bay outside an old, worn Chinese shop. The yelling was clear now.

“I told you, I want my money.” Someone spat, no doubt Mr. Ivashkov with that slight Russian accent to his voice.

“P-p-please, two more days, I promise I-“

There was a crack and a groan. The ‘victim’ may have just had his nose broken.

“I have given you all the time you need.” Said Mr. Ivashkov angrily. There was a snap of fingers and more whining from the ‘victim’.

I stepped into the alley. The small, outside light causing shadows to ricochet along the enclosed space.

“H-hey,” I said. “Wh-what’re you doing?” The light let me see the two mountains of muscle that Ivashkov kept  around, hold up the gangly, bloody ‘victim’ up against the wall with a glinting knife to his throat. It also let me see Ivashkov himself, with his lightning bolt scar across half his face, blinding one eye. It was true to his street name, ‘The Strigoi’.

Ivashkov let out a small, hoarse laugh. “This is none of your business young lady.” He said with a shark’s grin. He turned back to the Muscle Mountains. “Leave him and get the girl.”

The mountains nodded and made a bee-line for me, but I was too quick and they were on the floor within seconds, blood pouring from the centre of their heads like a river.

“I thought you would be a little more careful, seen as you’re the most wanted criminal.” I laughed. “Too bad, guess looks can be deceiving, huh?”


I pulled the trigger on my gun and watched him fall, his last breath caught in his throat. The ‘victim’ who’d taken to cowering now ran towards me with open arms.

“Thank you!” He shouted, tears running down his cheeks. “Thank you, so, so mu-“

I watched him fall to the ground like a ton of bricks. This time, I hadn’t pulled the trigger. Sam had.

 “Tch,” He grumbled. “They make me sick.”

“Yes.” I agreed. “Disgusting scum.”

Sam prodded the ‘victim’ with his foot, checking he was dead.

“How many is that now?” He asked, frowning at the bullet hole. He’d missed the centre of the head but had managed to get it into his neck, hitting the artery there.

I counted on my fingers. “Four.” I said. “We have another three.”

“I’m surprised the cops haven’t caught on.” He sighed. “Well, let’s go back into the club.”

“Yes.” I said tiredly, putting my gun away in the inside of my leather jacket and zipped it up. “I need a drink before our next night out.”

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