The Fox Hunter

Every night, at exactly ten o’clock her consultation with the moon began. Without fail. At exactly ten o’clock, her face was illuminated with a glowing satin, as the shafts of moonlight extended their fingers from the cracks in her blinds. Slowly, they traced across her like a mournful searchlight, before disappearing again and again. Night after night.

The moon always left just before ‘He’ arrived.

When he joined her in the darkened room, they would ‘make love’, if that’s what you could call it. Like pigs rutting in mud, there was no love, just primitive, animalistic impulse. She was a living doll, to be dressed, undressed, tupped and then discarded, left in her room until she was wanted again. Occasionally the three syllables were whispered, with a wet breath in her ear, ‘I love you’ was the cadence to a worn-out melody and the fleecy stuffing of a blanket sewn from sandpaper. It was so easy to lie to someone when they’re not facing you, even easier when their face is shrouded in darkness.

“You’re here because I love you. Because I can’t let you go -” He’d hesitate at the end of his sentences. He had forgotten her name.

Miss Sharpe hid her rosy cheeks from view the day Werner stumbled inside her Cafe, burying her pinched nose into a brochure for ‘Sharpe as a knife pastries and pies’. Outside was like a frosted pavlova street, regular dustings from the sky had coated everything a brilliant white. After a few minutes of pondering, Werner nestled into one of the cozy leather booths, cocooning his neck and mouth into the loose hug of his scarf. When the redheaded waitress went to serve him, she was put off by his initial request to join him for coffee. Assessing the absence of bodies within her bakery and the relentless storm outside, to her own surprise, she

accepted his offer and became acquainted with the man she’d come to know as Werner Fuchs.

With various caffeinated beverages on various occasions, the two met, sitting warmly through winter in the empty cafe. There was a flare of passion within his conversation, tickled with sophistication and dripping with intellect. When he spoke it seemed he had the power to lull the ocean waves into an attentive silence.

“What’s your name?” Werner had asked at their first meeting.

“Emily, Emily Sharpe”

Werner’s face was set alight in a glowing smile, that arched its way up his flushed cheeks.

“I like you Emily.”

Emily was the embodiment of a sigh, her spirit revolved around the hazel-haired gentleman and his molasses voice, drizzling the air with his thick tributes to life and love.

His charisma lulled her into a cage of false security, the bars were knitted together with smiles and empty compliments. Throughout their meetings, ‘like’ had turned to ‘love’, only to be slaughtered by obsession. Kindness slowly eroded from Werner and his temperament began to trans-mutate, scrambling and spitting among the coals of infatuation.

“I want to show you something” he exclaimed, lurching forward in excitement. This was at an evening meal after rivers of red wine pathed their way to intoxicated giggles.

Emily was led through mazes of streets, with each step she felt she was walking on gold, her heart growing lighter, quickening until she was floating in space. She was surrounded by the drab grey walls of a block of units and in front of her was a white door, with flecks of black

dirt infesting its corners. Inside this door was a small room, with hay stained carpets, a dilapidated mattress and a single window guarded with fixed blinds.

“Wait here for a second, I need to pick something up first.”

Emily was chaperoned into the room, the door closed behind her. She felt the bile bubbling in her stomach, navigating its way up her oesophagus and leaving its acidic trail throughout her mouth.

‘I mustn’t stress, he’ll come back.’ The light began to dim. ‘I wonder what he’s doing?’

The afternoon sky bruised through the blinds. The seething in her stomach became a vat of tar and hardened across her chest. In the darkness, the strips of moonlight illuminated her fiery hair. The moon was so soothing. ‘How long had it been since he left?’ Her head snapped back to the door.

“I was scared you wouldn’t come back. What is it you wanted to show me?”