First Place Winner in the 2007 Annual Flash Fiction Contest Haunting After Midnight” by Grettelyn Nypaver, Pittsburgh, PA Danny McCain wasn’t afraid to kill. He had done so many times before. But tonight something bothered him. It wasn’t the darkness of the alley around him. It wasn’t the rancid smell of castaway food that would bring rats as big as dogs before the sun came up. It wasn’t the dark stairway that led to unknown depths below. It wasn’t the long silver knife like a snake’s tongue in his hand. A curious blade it was, particularly made for this night and this unusual victim. The man who hired Danny had offered him a silver bullet and an excellent revolver, but Danny had asked for the knife. Guns were remote; not an extension of the self like a good blade was. He trusted knives. It was a very clean thing, knifing. Danny would go so far as to say that it was a delicate thing. It was his art. Danny was a tall, lean Irishman with light strawberry hair. He was not exactly what you would expect of someone commonly known as Dan the Hit Man. People sometimes laughed at him until they found out who he was. Danny wasn’t afraid to die. He had faced death before and lived to embellish the story. He had seen his partners die in slow, terrible ways. He had lived in squalid places with appalling people and he knew that, in many cases, surviving was worse than dying. Besides, the risk was part of the job. He acknowledged that and even reveled in it at times. Danny had never failed an employer and he prided himself on fearing no man alive. And, at that moment, there was no living man that frightened him. Danny didn’t know what was so extraordinary about this fellow that such a special dagger was needed to kill him, but it gave Danny the idea that he wasn’t dealing with any ordinary guy. A figure in fine evening clothes strode briskly down the cobbled street. His polished black shoes clicked as he walked and his sable opera cape billowed behind him like a sail in a storm. With one white-gloved hand he swung a gold-tipped cane, while with the other he adjusted his silk top hat. As he went along, he whistled a repetitive dirge through his unusually sharp teeth. It had been a successful night: three young women, all of them beautiful as spring lilies. He licked his lips. They had been so innocent in their white gowns and shining jewels. He smiled thinly as he reached into his pocket to wrap cold fingers around the little gold ring one of the girls had given him. He had the feeling that she would be the first and fastest to become entranced by his fascinations. As he fingered the gold band however, a forgotten wisp of memory floated into his consciousness. He saw another ring and another white-clad woman with violets in her hair. But then she was gone and he could almost believe it had never been. He shook himself. The sun would soon be up. He lengthened his stride and moved on. Danny still couldn’t understand why he had been ordered to remove the head of the victim. It seemed excessive, but his boss had been adamant about seeing the head personally. Still, Danny has never mutilated a corpse before and he didn’t want to start now. It was such an untidy business. He loathed it. He knew his quarry was dangerous; perhaps more so than any of his previous victims. But would it really matter after the fellow was dead? Surely the silver dagger was all he would need. Danny heard the brisk click of expensive shoes moving toward him down the street. His prey would come into view in seconds. For a heartbeat, Danny struggled with his employer’s insistence on following instructions exactly, but suddenly the man was upon him and cognizant thought gave way to animal instinct. The job was nearly finished now. Danny carried the body away to the river, thinking how unnecessary the decapitation would have been. The fellow in the fine evening clothes was as still as the lace curtain in an abandoned house, and no amount of disfigurement would change that. Danny left the knife in his victim. He would have liked to keep the exquisite blade, but his boss insisted that it remain in the fellow’s heart. Danny wondered if his pay would be docked if he didn’t bring the head. He frowned. Perhaps he would do it then. If he cut the head off at the river bank he could wash afterwards. He would decide when he got there. Anyway, the job would be over soon. Danny felt a sudden sharp sting in his neck. He had the unexpected thought that sometimes, in empty mansions, the curtains seemed to be pulled by invisible fingers. All at once the planks of the dock came rushing up to him and all was blackness, nothingness, and utter silence. The gentleman in the fine evening clothes stepped over the body of his assassin, barely glancing at the crumpled corpse. The would-be victim smacked his lips. He was annoyed about the hole in his garments and his favorite hat was gone. Turning, he leaned down and jerked the knife from the dead man’s throat. It made a wet sucking sound as it came free, but the dandy seemed not to notice. Neatly, he licked its shining surface clean without even nicking a taste bud on his long black tongue. Silver. How quaint. Would humans never learn? Silver had gone out ages ago. Sighing, he threw the knife away. As he walked off, the man reached into his pocket. The gold ring was still there. He wondered if he could sell it for the price of a new suit. He smirked. The clothes weren’t such a problem after all. They had done their work. Tomorrow was another night.