A Midnight Snack

    Wayne contemplated life as a wealthy man as he turned the large, crystal clear diamond broach around in his hand.  No more pillaging open caskets at funerals for him; he had hit the jackpot.
    Pinning the gem to his shirt, he was still chuckling as the metal prongs in the setting expanded like a set of jaws, biting into his chest.  There came a knock at the door as he howled in agony.  Swirling milky black, the broach continued to chew.
    “Hello?” called the woman at the door, followed by another knock.  The prongs gnawed deeper.
    The pain sent him crashing to the floor.  “Help me!” he screamed to the woman.
    “Do you need help?” the woman asked, turning the brass knob frantically, “Can I come in?”
    “Yes,” he growled loudly through his teeth, “a key…under the mat.”
    The door exploded in a shower of splinters, as the light in his eyes began to fade.  Standing at the door brewed a familiar face. 
    “Your heart is black as pitch and good for nothing more than a Harpies meal,” she sneered as feathers sprouted from her arms, “and thanks for the invitation.”  She grabbed her broach, tearing it from his chest along with his still beating heart.  The Harpy then took flight out the open door, clutching her midnight snack in her talons.  “Thanks for not waiting for the burial. I would have hated to have soiled my nails digging my way out,” she cackled, as she joined the night sky.