Londoner

He awoke, late, almost midday, with symptoms his neighbours might have been familiar with in the guise of a slight hangover, a headache, a little nausea, listlessness. But no alcohol had ever entered his system, it was one of the many things he had to avoid, to maintain his health in this, to him, foreign place. As he returned from sleep to the waking world, stretching his lean, supple frame, he felt glad of the efficient heating in his small flat, allowing the comfortable warmth to suffuse his body, helping him return to full awareness. As his senses reached their normal level of acuity, he became aware of the remains of last night's supper, and groaned inwardly. I really must, he thought, make an effort to clear up before I fall asleep, it's so much more work to have to do it later, everything gets dried in and needs scrubbing. He set about the unpleasant, but necessary housekeeping tasks without further delay, and after an hour or so, everything in the flat was back to its normal, pristine state.

It was early afternoon by this time, the bustle of London's streets washed to and fro outside his window, but he felt no impulse, yet, to join the throng. He liked living in the big city, its anonymity fulfilling his need to be able to hide in plain sight, to be able to go about his business without attracting much attention - there were so many people here, of almost every conceivable shape, size, fashion sense and appearance, so that his slightly unusual looks, his habitual wearing of dark glasses, irrespective of the time of day or the season, went largely unremarked. He did, from time to time, sense curious eyes upon him, but it wasn't a common occurrence, most of the populace more than happy to mind their own business if he extended the same courtesy to them. Which he always did. He was a solitary creature, and had no wish or need to associate with others. Except in one specific situation. But that would be for later. For now, he needed to dispose of his household waste, and take a little exercise. He combined the two by taking a walk to the edge of the local industrial area, to the recycling facility maintained by the local council, where he dutifully separated his refuse and placed it into the correct containers. There was even a composting bin for food waste, and although he wasted little or nothing, there were a few scraps which he emptied from a supermarket carrier bag into the relevant receptacle. Placing the carrier bag itself into another recycling bin, he left without any hurry, and continued his walk towards the canal towpath, before working his way in a wide loop through the local park and back to the flat.

Evening approached, and the sense of surfeit he'd felt on waking had now left him, to be replaced by the beginning of slight hunger pangs. Patience, he told himself, it's too early to eat yet. He cleaned himself, and dressed in his usual low-key clothing, dark coloured and inconspicuous in a crowd, before settling his customary dark glasses on his nose. It was almost time to venture out, to begin his regular nocturnal search. An hour later, just as darkness fell, he made his way into the bar, only moderately busy as yet, not one of the most frequented meeting places in this part of London, but somewhere he knew he could meet the sort of person he needed to meet. He sat in a corner seat, sipping at his mineral water, surveying the scene, on the lookout, as ever, for a likely prospect. It wasn't long before he saw her, soft drink in hand, looking as though she was on the periphery of the group she was with, maybe her first time out with a new work crowd, not really knowing any of them that well, not up to speed with the in-jokes and gossip. He caught her eye, and smiled, just a slight upturning of the corners of his mouth.

It had been easy, it always was. He had talked to her, quietly, for a while, in his curiously expressionless, slightly accented voice, noticeably sibilant but otherwise lacking in significant features. Was he Russian, she had wondered, but he had just smiled enigmatically when she had asked where he came from, before answering that he was a Londoner. They had left the bar, headed for a nearby nightclub where they had spent a couple of hours, before she accepted his suggestion to come back to his flat. He'd chosen his route carefully, instinctively avoiding the forest of CCTV cameras characteristic of the big city as far as possible, especially in the last few minutes before he ushered her through the service entrance of his block of flats. They stood facing each other in his small but expensively furnished living room, she knew what she was here for, and she wanted it as much as he obviously did. She stepped closer, put her hands on his shoulders, turned her face up to his, approached his thin lips with her fuller ones, the first contact was just moments away. Her hands moved up to the sides of his face, gently beginning to remove his glasses, she liked eyes, I bet, she thought, that he's got really nice eyes, I wonder why he wants to keep them covered up. He made no move to stop her. She began to smile, just for a second, until her consciousness registered that there were no eyes where eyes should have been. Had she been a herpetologist, she might have recognised what she was seeing as akin to the pit organ in certain species of snake, but one which had evolved, on his home planet which was perpetually shrouded in cosmic dust blocking virtually all the light from the star at the centre of his planetary system, to a much more sophisticated level, so that he could see more clearly in the infrared than she could in visible light. She gasped in horror, her last conscious act before another ophidian trait of his was brought to bear, sharp, fang-like teeth penetrating the skin of her neck, puncturing the carotid artery and injecting a neurotoxic venom, far more powerful than any possessed by any terrestrial creature, into her bloodstream. He caught her as she fell into his arms, instantly dead.

Suppertime. I must clear up before I sleep, he reminded himself.

****

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B