Dark Angel

The mugger thought he’d get a few bucks the easy way. His victim had other plans.

Scott Gese
Oct 11 · 3 min read
Jackson waited for his victim. Image source: Khachik Simonian/Unsplash

Jackson Hayes held tight against the dark alley wall. The street light glistened off the blade of his knife. He held it close and waited for his victim to reach the alley entrance where he stood just around the corner.

The intended victim was Aaron Tens. He had just left the all night market where he had purchased a pack of cigarettes. Just before he reached the alley entrance he stopped to light one up.

Jackson was tense. He knew the man was close. He nervously waited as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. “It’s cold out. Why am I sweating?” He thought. His intuition told him something about this encounter wasn’t going to be like the others. For a split second he thought about putting the knife away and moving on. Jackson never was one to listen to his gut, unless it was telling him he was hungry. This wasn’t one of those times, so he dismissed it.

Aaron stuffed the lighter back into his pocket and took a long draw, savoring the caustic smoke as it filled his lungs. He wrapped his long black overcoat tight around his waist, pulled his fedora down snug and continued forward, knowing the moment was close at hand. He loved these late night encounters when muggers thought they had the upper hand. When they thought they had the element of surprise and he would be the victim.

He knew Jackson Hayes. He had watched him as a young kid stealing candy from the corner store. Rolling the drunks on 42nd Avenue and mugging innocent pedestrians like himself. Yes, Arron Tens knew all about Jackson Hayes. Now the time was at hand and he would not be denied.

Aaron slowly walked past the alley entrance fully aware of the fact that Jackson stood waiting for him to pass. As expected, he felt the knife at his back and the low voice of his attacker ordering him to hand over his wallet or feel the blade that now pressed against his spine.

Jackson waited for his victim to respond, but the man didn’t move. He shoved him forward deeper into the dark alley. “I told you, now I’ll show you,” he threatened.

Arron turned around to face his attacker. His face showed dim beneath the brim of his hat. “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time, Jackson. Your time has come.”

My time has come?” Replied Jackson. “I don’t think you understand. I’m the man with the knife. I’m the man who plans to take your life if you don’t hand over your wallet, right now.”

“No, I don’t think you understand. This is the night of your undoing. The night you were meant to encounter from the very day of your birth. The night of your final demise. The night I take your very soul.” Aaron brushed off his hat and threw down his overcoat revealing a pair of enormous black wings. “This very night, you are mine.”​

© Copyright 2019 by Scott A. Gese All Rights Reserved.


Short fiction by Scott Gese. I make stuff up.

Scott Gese

Written by

An award winning freelance writer of novels, articles and blog posts. Scott specializes in short story fiction. He writes in multiple genre’s.


Short fiction by Scott Gese. I make stuff up.

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