By raymond clement
The fog was very thick. He had trod these walkways before but the enveloping haze disconcerted him. But there, in the distance, was the glow of a light, and the sound of a haunting voice singing an old English Air. He knew he had heard the melody before but couldn’t identify it. Jack knew that when he reached the light and the music he would also find his victim. He touched the stone wall for guidance, it was moist and cold. He wiped his hand on his coat. He grasped the leather covered handle of his weapon; it felt warm to his touch.
He continued, his footfalls muffled by the mist; his black clothing making him almost invisible. Stealthily he approached his prey. He could now make out the form of his victim. Suddenly, the music stopped. Jack halted as the object of his stalking stirred. He waited. He moved closer, into the glow of the light. Removing the twelve inch knife from his belt, he raised it high with both hands above his head; the steel blade glinted in the light of the lamp, as he plunged it to the hilt into the back of his victim. He removed it and struck again. . The second blow had not been necessary. His quarry was quite dead. All was silence, the deed done.
Jack took the lamp, the magic singing harp, and quickly retraced his steps to the beanstalk.
© raymond clement