She Smiles for the Bait



They say the alley eats people.
That’s almost true.
She waits beneath the flickering neon, rain sliding down pale skin, red eyes locked on you the moment you step too far in. The smirk comes first. The tongue follows, playful, mocking, an invitation you should refuse.
Behind her, something vast stirs. Tentacles uncoil like waking thoughts, patient, obedient. They are not hers because she’s trapped.
They are hers because she called them.
You realize too late: the monster isn’t looming over her shoulder.
It’s standing right in front of you, smiling.