They called him the Ladykiller. It wasn’t derogatory and certainly not literal, but more of a term of endearment. Every so often, they would see him walking around with a new woman on his arm, laughing and very much interested in what he was saying. Then, a few weeks later, there would be a new one doing the same thing. They thought nothing of it because, well, why would they? Some people are built for monogamy. Others are not.
It was when he started showing up at events around town with the tall woman with long, black hair over and over and over again that talk started to change. That perhaps the Ladykiller had given up his ways. That maybe he had finally been tamed by this enchanting woman. They were the talk of all the parties, to be fair. Him with his same charm and wit, albeit somewhat tempered by the woman next to him. Her with her dark elegance and restrained nature. They seemed an odd match, but if they were both happy, who were others to judge?
He started showing up to get-togethers less and less as time went on. He always had an excuse or a reason why he couldn’t show. They had other plans often, which was odd because what plans could be more important than the soiree at Manor Halston? He appeared walking around less as well and kept to himself more. The loud, gregarious man they had known had become withdrawn and quiet. It was a change but not altogether unwelcome. His brand of personality was not for everyone.
Rumors, though, spread as they do, and others began to worry about him. Was it drugs? Abuse? Something darker? What was she doing to him? When confronted, he insisted he was happy and the coals burning in his eyes seemed to punctuate that, but it’s difficult to trust when someone changes so much. Still, most gave him his privacy. It was gauche to press and worse to pry.
It was the middle of October when he finally stopped coming around his usual haunts. All of his favorite places had a spot for him, and all of those spots began to gather dust. Whispers turned into talks turned into yells of concern. One person had seen him the other day, a walking skeleton. Another said he had been standing on the roof of his house. Nobody could be certain of the truth because, well, what was truth when it came to rumors after all?
The dark reality of it all, though, sunk in at the beginning of December when his lady friend, the woman who had tamed the Ladykiller, showed up at one of the society parties with a new man next to her. This one was tall, blond, and muscular. When asked what had happened to the Ladykiller, she simply smiled and said that he had chosen another path without her. She gained a new name then. One befitting her station.
The Killer Lady.
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Here is where I''ll post random stories that aren't, as of yet, in a larger book. Call it a free ride into the mouth of madness, yo.