by Rachel Green
As I hurry through the parking lot intent upon reaching the ticket office, and therefore the train, before the departure time an unexpected compliment stops me in my tracks. "You are as beautiful as the autumn rain and I will possess you for eternity.” I turn and look for the speaker, the heel of my shoe protesting against the cobbled surface that leads to the building. It was a soft voice, rich with the lilt of Arabia like a soft breeze against the stubborn dunes of my self-awareness but its origin eludes me. Only a thrush notes my puzzlement, tilting its head against the breeze rocking the pumpkin coloured leaves from the overhanging chestnut. I shake my head, purchase my ticket and hurry down the stairs to the platform where my heels twists off in an act of final rebellion, pitching me off the platform in front of the 18:24 to Paddington and the feet of my new master, the djellebah-clad Azrael, angel of death.
Rachel Green is an English woman who spends far too much time writing about demons.