Murder

Entering the empty church at sunset, you see Murder in the far corner of the hall. She seems to be standing before the icons, praying; the church is too dark, illuminated only by lit candles. Hearing the muffled, slow footsteps, Murder turns and sees us, a sly smile spreading across her face, her sharp teeth, and her eyes narrow as if she sees before her not a stranger, but an old friend. "Good evening, dear traveler. What brings you to me at such a late hour?" Murder said, coming closer and closer to me. Murder's warm, slender hand touched my shoulder, her face leaning close to my ear. I was taken aback, and before I could say a word, Murder whispered in my ear, "What do you want?" She spoke quietly, but with obvious irritation. It seems I've arrived at the wrong time...