Sunday, October 18, 2009

Hors d'Oeuvres

He heard the voice again just before he was to go downstairs and remind everyone gathered of his parents’ legacy, the foundation’s mission. He smelled shrimp seared in fire, heard the hum of chatter and the baby grand’s cascading notes, glasses clinking. Someone there will destroy your life, take what’s yours, then kill you. Feet shuffled, people positioned themselves to see him. How will I know who it is? Can I stop them? But the voice, his unseen friend since childhood, comforting him in his family's refurbished castle, didn’t answer. Silence as he descended, his legs like cinder blocks, a musical note still ringing, his eyes scanning for a killer as lips, noses, eyes came into view.

1 comment:

  1. one of those pieces that makes you want to turn the page to see what happens next.

    ps i linked you, i hope you don't mind.