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May 4, 2007

Jim: One Night In Martinique

She forced her eyes open. A chicken and a crow hung from the thatched ceiling, both decapitated and dripping blood in a steady rhythm that matched the throbbing in her head. She vaguely recalled sitting in a bar… having a drink…

A dark woman’s face leered down at her. “De job is done,” the woman said in a singsong Caribbean accent. “De debt is paid.”

A man’s voice asked, “How long until she starts… you know…”

“Rotting?” A toothy grin. “A few months, maybe.”

“Come, girl!” the man ordered. Wordlessly, she slowly rolled to her feet.

But inside she screamed.

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