I looked at him and he looked at me, waiting for me to react.
Something dark exists deep inside of him. Very dark and very deep, it hides behind the amiable smile and his ever-changing eyes. It is angry, unrelenting and unforgiving in both nature and spirit.
But looking at him, at the golden, revolting perfection of his features, you don’t see it. Or maybe if you do—a peculiar look on his face when the shadows fall in just the right place, a bitter bite in the usually soothing tone of his voice—you persuade yourself that it is just your imagination. Like a magician, he waves his hand and you look elsewhere.
But it is too late for me to deny or to pretend. I’ve seen the dark inside him and have answered its call.
To all eyes, he is the angel on my shoulder but I know better.
He is the big bad wolf—
—the poisonous apple—
—the hunter’s knife digging deep between my ribs.
Hunter Knife
Copyright © 2010 by D.F. Jules
