Darkness creates it's own fears. A fear of the dark in daylight familiar places.
Where monsters hide in the shadows. Lurking predators with their own agendas.
Night is my time and I have no fear.
Emptying city streets. Only the passing trade as clubs and pubs empty, spilling out loud talking, staggering drunks needing to find their way home.
They are nothing to me.
A car passes by and a girl on the corner sticks out her chest hopefully. A seductive pose that goes unnoticed. A drunk makes a lewd remark and she laughs him off.
I walk on determined to make my mark.
A side alley. I lose myself in the blind darkness. Trash flits around my feet blown on a swirling eddy of breeze. A dustbin lid crashes onto the ground. A cat yowls.
Nothing disturbs me as I ditch my raincoat.
I emerge from the alley into a damp world where the street is etched with neon colours.
Night is my time.
And right on cue a kerb crawler pulls up alongside me.
I slide into the passenger seat.
I direct him to the back of a deserted, derelict warehouse.
The mark parks up and I get to work.
He leans back, breathing heavy. His eyes close. His skin is stretched taut across his throat. A throat that opens bleeding red from a smiling wound. His shocked eyes open briefly then close as he chokes up blood. Blood that smears the windscreen and drips from the steering wheel into the gap of his open flies.
I snap shut the cut-throat razor and slip it back into my stocking top.
Night, I tell the corpse, is a time to die.
I am a predator of the night.
A predator who feeds on those predators like the one that killed my sister.
Yes, night is my domain.
I am that fear in the dark.
And my hunger is unabated.