A Rose by Any Other Name ...

A Rose by Any Other Name …

Rose glanced at her watch in the pale light. 11:57. Soon. The night wind picked up a discarded newspaper and it tumbled into the darkness.

A car approached, headlights illuminating her scantily dressed figure. It stopped adjacent to her, the passenger side window sliding down with a faint buzz.

“Looking for a date?” she asked in a sultry voice. She could make out a dark shape but no details.

“What is your name?” the shadow asked.

“Rose.”

“Is that your real name?”

“Does it matter? For the right price, it can be anything you’d like,” she chuckled mirthlessly.

“Get in.”

They drove to a deserted lot and parked. With the engine off, the quiet seemed suffocating. The man reached for her.

“Not so fast. Business before pleasure. So, lover, what are you looking for?”

He sat back. In the pale light from the dashboard, she could see the anguish in his face. “I … I shouldn’t be here. This is a mistake,” he mumbled more to himself than to her.

Turning, he looked intently into her eyes. “What is your name? Your real name?”

“Why do you care?”

“I need to know so I can pray for you.”

Here it comes. She smiled. “And why would you do that?”

A knife blade flashed in the dimness. “What you are doing is wrong. It’s a blasphemy against all that is good.”

Rose laughed. With inhuman speed, her right hand shot across the short distance, knocking the knife away. Her hand continued in a smooth arc, catching him across the throat and crushing his windpipe.

He lay there, small jerking movements contorting his body.

Rose leaned over, gently laying her lips against his and captured his soul as it left.

“Now you know my real name,” she murmured. “It’s death.”

An entry for "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt: Write a story that includes the line: "What is your name?"
Word Limit: 300
Word Count: 298