I do love this time of year. For me it’s the one time of the year where things make sense. Or maybe it’s just the cold freezing my synapsis, making me slower.
Whatever it is about Christmas time, or the time from Thanksgiving to the New Year, I love it. It’s hustle bustle everywhere and I’m one of the people in that throng moving about from point A to point Z. There’s a lot of places I need to be so A and B doesn’t cut it.
I love Christmas. This Christmas is a little lean, but we’ve done all right. The majority of what we have left in savings has gone to the kids, and with me selling a few items on eBay I’ve been able to get a little extra for me and Tab to spend on each other. Instead of focusing on the negative that we all experience, I’m finding it easier to focus on what we have, and not what we don’t have. I digress.
Between looking for a job, writing about a serial killer in A Ways to Go, proofing/writing Werewolves of the Dead, and Christmas shopping, I’m finding the time to do flash fiction. I have to admit, I enjoy flash fiction. It really does keep you sharp.
This post is mostly rambling so if you made it this far, congratulations and thank you! Here’s my latest flash fiction. I hope you enjoy it.
It was impossible to resist her. She was beautiful like that classic film star, Veronica Lake. In reality she looked more like Velma Dinkley except with straight, flowing platinum blonde hair.
We’d met on the bus going to work, and a “friendship” flourished. I wanted to sleep with her more than be her friend. I still can’t explain why I wanted her so badly, but I know why she wanted me.
On our fifth date she cooked dinner for us at her place. The meal was excruciatingly unappetizing. The meatloaf was bland, the baked potato dry, and the carrots limp. I can’t say the same about me. I was ready for “love”.
“I want to show you something,” she said once the dishes were cleared.
I assumed it was the bedroom and I willingly followed.
I had entered the den of a lioness that enjoyed keeping trophies. Men’s heads hung from the walls with brass nameplates identifying who they were.
All I could get from my mouth was a squeak before collapsing.
She closed the door before kneeling beside me.
“Every five weeks I need to feed,” she said, flipping me unto my back.
She stripped naked and straddled me. She rubbed her naked crotch rub against my clothed erection as she sucked my life force away. I felt my essence flowing from my eyes and into hers. It was sensual rather than painful. I was scared out of my mind, but it was impossible to resist her.