Bloodstream

As the weeks passed by, Avriel started to arrive at the club just after Ariel's shift started. He sat on whatever end of the bar she was working so that she would have to take his order. The third time she brought over the bottle of Scotch and a glass, let him confirm with a nod and a smile and poured his drink. The fourth she just brought his drink, smiled a lovely smile at him, whispered his name, and waited a moment or two with her eyes locked to his, to see if he had any other request for her. He had none that he could make of her right then, though a few ideas would roll slowly through his mind as he watched her watching him. Finally, he would shake his head slightly. She'd smile again, nod and go on about her business.

Night after night he came to the club, sat at the end of her bar, was served his, drink without question by Ariel herself. Night after night a beautiful woman would sit at that same end of the bar next to him, talk to him, and command his divided attention. Every night thereafter, he left alone.

Each night was the same, busy. He would sit, watch, and listen. Ariel would run an efficient and clean bar, flirt back gently and quietly refuse the numerous offers she received. Every night was the same. Until it wasn't.

One such night in a very different part of town a man went about his daily life. He moved about his kitchen preparing a meal the size of a small country while just outside a few miles away some poor soul was starving. Although he knew, he didn't care. What was one more useless life and why should he waste his hard-earned money on a wastrel or anyone for that matter when he was the only person that he needed to concern himself with. He had passed up opportunity after opportunity to lend a hand, to help the poor and impoverished to rise above or just eat for a night or two.

He served only his own interest. All that interested him was making money. He was the landlord by proxy for several of the tenements in the slums and in various places throughout the metro area.

He closed down buildings when they stopped making money for him or he could no longer bribe his way through inspection. His buildings were unsafe, many should have been condemned and he was corrupt, absolutely corrupt. He laid people off, lied on his taxes, and destroyed entire families by denying claims against his company. He was solely responsible for the loss of over a thousand jobs and subsequently the loss of many lives. Personally, he had no blood on his hands, but his actions, more importantly, his inaction, had caused the death of so many people young and old and all ages in between.

He laughed joyfully to himself and hummed happily as he bopped and danced around his luxurious kitchen. He didn't care if the elevators in his buildings worked, or if the heat worked when it was needed, or if the air conditioning was nonexistent. Why should he? So what if that little black boy fell down the elevator shaft to his death. It was just one less negro to clog the gutters later. His momma should have been watching him. The way he saw it, she really needed to thank him. It was one less mouth she had to feed, and she could barely afford to feed the other children she had. And that old man, he should have been paying more attention when he was walking down those stairs, then the old man would not have fallen.

He was a special kind of horrible human. He dropped his butter knife on the counter. Mayonnaise flew everywhere as the knife clattered down to the marble countertop and spattered the shiny bagel toaster, the marble backsplash, and his portly hairy belly. His feet grew cold and his hands hot. Wide-eyed and terrified he stopped moving and turned.

"Who is there?" He called out. His voice was shaking more than his knees were knocking. He was supposed to be alone, but he was certain that someone, something just touched his neck. When he turned there was nothing but empty white space behind him. He shook it off and went about what he was previously doing. "Probably just Freda." He breathed out in a sigh. Then realized that he'd given Freda the night off to be with her family as a way of rewarding her for being a good girl for him and doing all that he asked of her so sweetly. He regretted his decision not to get a dog.

A light went out behind him and he jumped, knocking over the glass of milk on the counter. The glass shattered, the milk spilled down the front of the drawers and pooled on the pristine floor. He passed it off as a blown bulb, until the second, then third and fourth went out. Then the light in the kitchen clicked and went out too.

In a complete state of panic, he moved in the direction of the nearest light switch and slipped in the spilled milk. Tiny shards of glass embedded themselves in his foot. He cried out in pain and fear. His blood mixed with the milk on the floor. He stumbled and fumbled through the dark, trying to find the light. He heard heavy breathing behind him, chasing him through his house.

He stubbed his good foot on a stool and yowled like a madman before he lost his balance completely. He tumbled over backward striking his head on the counter hard enough to crack his skull. He lay in misery and pain until his brain swelled beyond the capacity of his cranium and his body started to shut down. In his final moments, the agony that he had caused others drifted back to him in pain induced dreams. He saw the face of a grieving mother, a heartbroken daughter, and a terrified Freda begging him no with fear in her eyes. Finally, it all made sense to him. He begged and pleaded and prayed. "God Please save me. I promise. I promise to do good."

From the shadows, a cold voice whispered, "Your God can't save you now." They were the last words he ever heard. His heart sputtered and stopped. The papers would report his death as an unfortunate accident.

'Local Real Estate Mogul found dead in his loft at 39, suspected heart attack. Robert Lancaster, survived by his brother David Lancaster suffered a broken toe and a mild laceration to the head sustained during a fall which was a result of stepping on broken glass and spilled milk.'