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The Day The Devil Died

Revenge At The Leather And Lace

By Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished 4 months ago Updated 4 months ago 1 min read
The Day The Devil Died
Photo by Aleksandr Popov on Unsplash

She smelled him as he entered the room. The stale scent of old tobacco, sweat and motor oil.

As he approached, she noticed the whites of his eyes were as yellow as his fingertips.

Her memories of him, as ashy as the end of his cheap cigarette.

His eyes narrowed as he smiled, and she watched the devil emerge. Her skin crawled as he took her arm.

When he shut the door of the back room, she took the opportunity to make her move.

Every ounce of hate and hurt and justice, plunged into his skin, through that needle.

Short Story

About the Creator

Kelli Sheckler-Amsden

Telling stories my heart needs to tell <3 life is a journey, not a competition

If you like what you read, feel free to leave a tip, I would love some feedback

Find me on twitter @kelli7958958

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Comments (6)

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  • Paul Stewart4 months ago

    Revenge revenge revenge. Dish best served in amazing microfiction style?

  • Cathy holmes4 months ago

    Excellent! Sounds like he deserved it.

  • Gina C.4 months ago

    Got him! Revenge is beautiful :) Great work, Kelli!

  • Stick it to him!

  • Babs Iverson4 months ago

    Fantastic!!! Loving it!!!

  • J. S. Wade4 months ago

    Good one 😀🥰

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