The bayonet in her hand reflected the moon upon her body like the mistress of mysterious misanthropy that she was. The blood in my bones ran as cold as the memories of my frozen December youth. My cigarette clung to my lips like a suicide jumper without cause. I twisted my head towards Devandara and looked at the bag of diamonds she held. “Where did you get those” I queried her, struggling to maintain my gaze on her gun and not the maid’s uniform her bosom was squeezed into. “These are the diamonds I stole from the corpse of my dead husband” she laughed, snarling at me every so slightly. I gently took Moses, my parrot, off my shoulder, fed him a piece of gum, and put him back in my breast pocket. I could tell, this would be no easy case.
-RTB, My entry into the Bored to Death Worst Opening Paragraph Contest.
