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| Image by Lora Mitchell |
Rare and
Precious Things
I wiped the
knife that had stabbed Julius Caesar meticulously on Sabre’s coat of human hair
and stepped back to admire the view.
Despite months
of scheming, manoeuvring and threats, and after bidding a sum of money even I
regarded as obscene, I’d lost out.
Sabre had never
taken my collecting seriously. He’d invited me here to gloat. His mistake.
I kicked out, cursing
his cooling cadaver as it bruised my toe through the paper thin Italian leather
loafers in which Berlusconi had been hanged.
I eased the last
living lily on earth into Cleopatra’s asp box and left, smiling.
100 words
@nickjohns999
This story was written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields' Friday Fictioneers Challenge
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