The Hour is Late
An innocuous, yet mysterious woman walks into the local bar. She approaches the Bartender and says in a flat tone, “Water please.”
She is around 5 feet tall. She has long, dark, slightly stringy hair. Her eyes are very dark, almost black. Her clothes are old and worn.
He says, “Honey this is no place for you. You should go back where you came from.” A man taps her on the shoulder and ask, “Hey little Lady what are you doing here?” She does not look at him, she does not respond.
“You want to dance little Lady? Still she does not respond. He roughly grabs her by the arm and turns her to face him. “I’m talking to you, are you deaf?”
Her dark eyes become fiery red, almost demonic. He backs away slowly and stammers, “OK, OK, I’m cool, you cool?” He turns and beats a hasty retreat from the bar. No one has seen this encounter even the Bartender did not see her eyes.
She faces the Bartender her eyes again dark/black. She once again says in her flat tone. “Water please.”
He impatiently drums his fingers, “Now listen you’re not welcome here. Just go someplace else.”
She crawls over the Bar and helps herself to water. The Bartender yells, “You are not allowed here, now get out!” Her eyes once again fiery/demonic. He points and screams, “El Diablo, El Diablo!” In his haste he trips and breaks his nose. But his fright keeps him going and he runs away,
The other patrons, scared but curious cautiously approach her. One brave soul asks, “He called you El Diablo, the Devil. Who are you?”
“I am a stranger, in a strange land.* I thirsted, but was denied water. When I am treated with respect, I respond with respect. When I am treated with violence, I respond with violence.”
She then slowly fades away.
The stunned but brave soul
who questioned her says,
“Respect begats respect.”
“Violence begats violence.”