Dark Fairy Tales: A Midnight Dynasty Anthology by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Dangerous Press LLC
Published: 2020-08-15T18:30:00+00:00

Turn the page to read more of the Midnight Dynasty world...

Jack & the Beanstalk

Marley Valentine

1

On all fours, my body hovers over his, my gloved hand circling around his throat, squeezing tight. Wide eyes stare up at me in horror, confusion, and fear, wondering how after a quiet night out in the city he ended up here.

My hold on him increases, squeezing enough to block his airways, but not enough to kill him. When I drag the sharp, stainless steel carving knife out of my back pocket, his body begins to buck deliciously underneath me. Frantic hands try to claw at mine, desperate to pry my fingers off him. If these were any other circumstances, his attempts would be comical, but since he’s clearly trying to save his own life, I keep my face impassive and indifferent.

“Sorry,” I say, knowing quite well remorse isn’t something I’ve felt in a very long time. “You’re just one of many. Collateral damage,” I explain. “But I promise you’ll look beautiful when I’m done with you.”

The fight in him eventually weakens, his body heaving with every breath, his eyes now pleading for mercy. Lowering my face down to his, I press my lips to his, tasting his resignation. His submission. “I can see what he liked about you. I probably should’ve played with my meal first and got the real experience.”

“P-p-p-please,” he stutters. “I’ll d-d-d-o anything.”

“How about we compromise?” I say, feeling a little playful. “I’ll let you pick which way you want to go.”

Offering him a soft smile, I point the tip of the knife to his chest, adding enough pressure to pierce his skin. “I can carve you up first.”

He hisses as I drag the knife through the first layer of his skin, watching how his blood begins to beautifully trickle out of the cut.

“Or we can wait till you stop breathing.” My hand tightens against his neck, leather and pressure pushing his windpipe in full force, giving him an exact taste of what’s to come. He tries to fight me, his eyes filling with unshed tears of confusion and fear.

When he gasps for air, I raise an eyebrow up at him impatiently. “Which one is it?”

He places his hand over mine, and I nod at his answer. “Close your eyes,” I encourage. “It’s less painful that way.”

It’s another lie, but he’s like putty underneath me right now and listens to my advice anyway. They all do, hoping for a sliver of relief right before they take their very last breath, but that doesn’t come. There’s no comfort when it comes to death, especially when you know it’s the only option you have.

Eventually the choking sounds dwindle, and his body stills. I have to admit there’s a little bit of grace in the way he succumbed to the inevitable. The majority aren’t like that, always trying to fight it. Always hoping for a miracle, or even worse—that I’ll feel bad and change my mind.

Getting comfortable, I position myself over the not-yet-cold body, and slice through the multiple layers of skin.

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