A girl was sitting on a bench. From her appearance, she might have been around twenty, but some would surely have guessed she was eighteen or even sixteen. Perhaps, if she hadn't had such a pensive expression as she did now. A serious expression always makes you look older. But she was reading a book. It's one of those publications that touches on the meaning of life and existence. It negates questions about God, perhaps even overturns them. It's certainly a book written by those poor souls of the future or attempted suicide variety. Perhaps this girl is one of them too? She's dressed all in black: a black tank top, not necessarily covering her navel, a black mesh top with flared sleeves, and naturally black, well-cut jeans. Bell-bottom jeans, of course. Although black trousers have gone out of style lately. Her long, beautiful, wavy hair creates an incredible contrast with her fair, almost pale skin and eyes as black as night.
From time to time, she glances at her watch, sometimes taking her eyes off the pages she's reading to watch the people passing by. It just so happens that the bench in question is right next to the bus stop. Maybe she's waiting for a bus? Possibly, but the fact that several buses with different numbers have already left the stop pretty much rules it out. Or maybe she's waiting for someone? After all, she's dressed quite elegantly, perfect for a date. So, a boy. Whoever he is, he didn't show off much today. This girl has been sitting here for a long time, checking the time every now and then, but no one comes. But there's no impatience or even a hint of anger on her face. She simply sits there, turning another page of the book she's reading. Admirable. What girl would sit so still, waiting for a boy? Or maybe it's not about a boy after all? Maybe she has a meeting with her sister, brother, one of her parents, or friends? She's been sitting there for an hour, occasionally glancing at her watch. In her shoes, anyone would probably get up and go for a walk around town, window shopping. Especially when it comes to girls. After all, reading a book in a noisy place like a bus stop must be very difficult. The exhaust fumes, the constant din, people walking back and forth.
She glanced at her watch one last time. She smiled faintly. It wasn't a pleasant smile, nor was it a kind one. She put the book back in her purse and stood up. But she didn't go anywhere, didn't take a single step. However, she was staring at something, or rather someone, across the street. It was a young boy, standing far from the crosswalk. He kept glancing from one side to the other, watching the cars pass by. So she was waiting for the boy after all. It was strange that he didn't look around. He didn't look for her. Perhaps he was too absorbed in the desire to cross the street in an unmarked place. Finally, the opportunity arose. The road was empty. Satisfied, he moved forward. And suddenly, from around the corner, a truck honked loudly, breaking every traffic law. The boy stumbled backward. Just two steps separated him from nothingness. He breathed a sigh of relief, and then he saw the girl. But something about her clearly disturbed him, and he began to back away nervously. Finally, he started running. She did nothing. She smiled gently, watching the boy run like a maniac, slamming into the street unnoticed, right in front of an approaching black BMW. A sudden bang, the sound of sudden braking. He was thrown several meters to the side. He landed, hitting his head against a tree. He fell to the curb. He didn't move. A crowd of onlookers surrounded the unfortunate man; someone started screaming, others tried to call the police and the ambulance. The faces of the witnesses to the accident were a mixture of disbelief and horror. Surely no one, getting up for work this morning, expected to witness such a gruesome event. Blood trickled from the boy's severed head. Part of his skull crumbled, revealing a bloody mess. Someone fainted, someone else felt nauseous.
The young man let out a long howl, twitched slightly, and tried to get up. His bloodshot eyes met the terrified gazes of the onlookers.
"Help me..." he stammered weakly.
He felt blood pouring from his mouth. But no one reacted. Only the strange girl, also standing in the crowd, reacted. Smiling. She approached him and knelt beside him.
"Your time is up," she replied curtly, her voice cold.
She extended a hand toward him, undergoing an incredible metamorphosis. The smooth, delicate skin of youth began to dry and shrink. The fingers lengthened, and the nails transformed into inch-long claws. The boy screamed as the clawed paw tore into his flesh. The girl pulled violently, drawing from within him something that glowed and shimmered faintly. The unfortunate man screamed at the top of his lungs, begging for mercy, struggling. But all in vain. Only a thin, short, gleaming line connected his soul to her former body. Suddenly, a long staff, tipped with a sickle-shaped blade, appeared in her other hand. She took a swing. A final scream, and silence fell. No one saw anything, no one heard anything. In the distance, only the sound of an ambulance siren echoed
. The girl sat on a bench, reading a book, only occasionally glancing at her watch. She also occasionally glanced at the people passing her. At one point, her gaze settled on a cyclist who was speeding past cars at breakneck speed. The girl smiled faintly, put down her book, and stood up.
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