Follow My Lead...

Candilynn Fite is doing something very interesting.  It is the Follow My Lead Flash Fiction Contest.

Doing a contest isn't, in and of itself, the interesting part.  You can get the details of the contest by clicking here.  The prizes caught my attention.  Their supportive nature intrigued me.  And for this first ever Follow My Lead Flash Fiction Contest, she's giving away Roland Yeoman's End of Days.  I couldn't pass up this opportunity so I'm submitting a flash fiction piece.

Here's the prompt: The streets of this restless city never slept...
Here's the picture to go along with the prompt:

Source

And here is my flash fiction piece:

The streets of this restless city never slept.  Drunken tourists shuffled along, not a care in the world, bumping elbows into strangers.  Offered beer breath laughter instead of apologies.  Such lack of courtesy demanded attention, but not from me.  In a flash-vision, I saw the young men seal their fate in the next bar.  A brawl, preventable were it not for hot heads and alcohol-strained livers.  A night in a cell would do them good

From my blue-lit balcony, I watched a couple walk arm-in-arm down the cobblestone lane, a woman who smiled mischievously up at a husband that was not hers.  He leaned down to waiting lips and kissed her.  An iridescent light cast a halo around his wedding band as he slipped it off his finger and into his pocket.  Of the many, I chose the husband.  His choice in the situation turned the tide.  They parted from their kiss, no hint of remorse in his smile.  I closed my eyes to let the consequences of my choice whir before me:  A young brunette, veiled and saddened.  Definitely not the blonde clutched in his arms before me. The widow rested her head upon the shoulder of a man with a straight back and heart pouring forth in pity and love. A little boy, too, fatherless, but not for long…and better off for it.

A smile curled my lips.  He will be mourned but something good would come of his death, especially for my wasting body.  Curse that river woman and her poisons.  Then again, I suppose I shouldn’t have slept with her husband.  Now damned as the mistress of Death, taking life is how I must live.  Though the streets of this restless city never sleep, it will no longer be so for one.