wattle - no one special, just a dreamer who found an old pen.

For three days she had taken an evening stroll through the grassy area winding among the palm trees, ‘bathing’ in the cool of the autumn freshness. Her demeanour overflowing with a calm joy as she took advantage of newly acquired freedom to stimulate her skin with the fresh taste of contentment; recently blossomed maturity pulsing like a beacon through smooth, pure, firm, budding curves.

He had noticed her wandering the palm garden. It was impossible for him to ignore her. He had tried to intersect with her last night but she had kept moving and it was as if his presence had gone unnoticed. Tonight would be different, as the evening cooled and with the first hint of dew across the grass he had selected his favoured club and was now sitting quietly between the Golden Cane and a large Cycad.

Sure enough, with the distant flicker of a television set indicated the commencement of Law and Order SVU she made her appearance. Slowly at first, cautiously following a safe path with a clear view to each side. There was hesitation in her movement not seen before, it was as if alarm bells were sounding a warning, yet with time she settled and confidence entered her movement as she wandered further towards the open space where the scent of the evening freshness was strongest.

She had passed the Alexandra Palms, making her way towards the clump of Elizabeth Palms with their inviting perfume on the air. He jumped to his feet and ran forward with his club extended making a sweeping strike that caught her unaware tumbling her to the ground on her left side. Dazed and unsure what was going on, she instinctively rolled onto her tummy and lifted herself, again he struck this time a with heavy direct blow across her spine. She fell to the ground immediately taking two further blows. A third heavy timed blow gave off a crack, she quivered momentarily before motionlessness entered her body; he had shattered her spine. A victory smile came to his face, he gloated for a moment before rolling her onto her back. The pure lines of her post adolescent form still offering succulent youth and maturity. Her teary helpless eyes stared up with defenceless pity etched across his reflection.

He pushed his club to her throat crushing her windpipe and watched without feeling as she struggled to find air. Eventually her soft body fell limp, as the last of her young life had melted away. Without hesitating he put down his club and carried her lifeless body the few meters to a waiting pit, dropped her in to rot with the compost.