A Gothic Tale.

Essay by guitargirl211College, UndergraduateA-, March 2008

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It was another crisp, clear night, but tonight there was no moon to cast its glow against the gray city. Slowly, June walked down the sidewalk, listening to the clinking of her tall heels against the hard concrete. Coming to the place where she was going to try to find money that would pay for the following day’s meals, she leaned up against a wall, not far from the entrance. It was a dreary bar on an old street in the city that still had not been able to pull itself up since the depression, which was over two decades ago; a place where lonely men found comfort in liquor and women—the perfect place for what she needed.

Just as her thoughts began to drift towards topics which made her crumble into a whimpering child, the man she was waiting for stepped out of the bar smelling of cigarettes and alcohol.

The last customer she had, a man by the name of Parker, had said he had a friend who would be interested in her service; this was that man. He looked at her with a glassed over stare which sent chills down her spine.

You need the money, you can’t back down now.

Swallowing hard she looked back up into his eyes and gave a small, yet seductive smile. Shooting her a quick wink, he stretched out his elbow, gesturing for her to link her arm with his. He guided her to his car, which she was hesitant to do. Weren’t you always told never get into a car with a stranger? She knew what she was about to do was worse than getting in a car with someone she didn’t know.

The ride to where the act was to be committed was excruciatingly slow. The man spoke quietly...