Okay, so this was written for the six sentence story prompt of charm, by girlontheedge. I am blaming this one on the fact I am reading The Stand by Stephen King right now, because its strange and a little twisted. It started off as a cute little idea, someone with a good luck charm, a rabbit’s foot, then it was the foot from a real rabbit, and then the guy carrying it got dark, and well, Happy New Year!
He walked into the house with a good luck charm in his pocket that you wouldn’t realize was the actual foot of a rabbit unless you got close enough to see the small rust colored stain on the fur where it was attached to the keychain like all the dollar store knock offs.
He was a superstitious man, even though his job relied far more on precision and skill than luck, but when you were raised by a woman like his grandmother, the superstition never quite left you, even when you knew it was foolish.
He was a hard man, the type that in another time people would have accepted as a necessary evil, someone who got things done regardless of the costs, but in the here and now, his ruthless efficiency and cold demeanor scared most people when he let down his mask. Even when it was up, it was like they could sense it, a lingering aura of death following him home in the case for his M82, which he carefully stowed in his attic until his next job.
When he was clean, and clothed, the charm back in his pocket, he practiced in the mirror until the smile on his face no longer looked plastic, and then he picked up a different case and walked across the road, bracing himself for the noise within.
He stepped through the door, fifteen minutes before midnight, handing over the case of champagne with his apologies to the host, and sat surrounded by the unsuspecting sheep from his neighborhood, one hand in his pocket, fiddling with the rabbit’s foot to make sure he brought only good luck into the New Year.