Walking home one night down a dark alley as you do – I was confronted by a woman wearing a mask over her mouth.
She stared at me and asked me in a slithery voice “Am I pretty?”
Realising she was that Japanese demon girl that I had read about on (of all things) a Facebook post, I said “I know who you are”.
She stared at me vacantly and asked me again “Am I pretty?” taking a step closer.
“I get it” I answered, “you ask me if I think you’re pretty and if I disagree - you disembowel me or something but if I agree you take off your mask and you show me your Glasgow smile and ask me again and no matter what I say you end up killing me”. I said all of this very carefully to make sure I didn’t say “yes” or “no” in case the trigger to keep playing the twisted game was based on simple linguistics.
Her eyes narrowed and she lowered her head a bit so she was standing somewhat hunched and suddenly her eyes snapped to meet mine “you dare question me?” this time her voice had a little more dagger to it.
I took my chance to stall. “Ah so you do speak! So let me ask you this: you were walking down a dark alley and someone cut you from ear to ear, right?”
Confusion filled her dark eyes for a moment and then flickered back to complete darkness “yesssss” she hissed more than replied much closer than before
Trying not to flinch at the invasion of personal space, I soldiered on "Ok. . . was it a stranger or did you know the person who did this to you?"
“What?” she asked in an uncharacteristically hoarse voice.
I looked around to see if there was anyone around to help – but then I doubted whether anyone would stop to talk to an obvious creature of evil if they had the choice. I continued my ramble. “Like was what happened to you a random act of violence or was this someone trying to silence you or seek vengeance or something?”
Her head cocked to one side unnaturally “. . . random” she replied.
"Uh huh. so now you go around killing people in the same way you died – but you must have killed thousands in your time. . . " She moved her head back and forth presumably in a nod "Let me ask you a second question: what do you get out of it?"
“The kiiiilllll” she answered with no hesitation.
I swallowed a yelp "I . . . uh see – but is that the girl that was killed talking or the demon that has possessed you talking?"
“Both” she hissed.
"So let me ask you one last thing – if I never give you an answer to your question – are you bound to me until I do or do you just move on to your next victim?"
Her eyes and face softened and a single tear rolled down her face.
For a second she looked like a young girl. . .
Any way – that’s why mommy has a 100 year old demon following her wherever she goes. Goodnight sport *KISS
