⌘ Rest in Peace, Trent McDonald, FridayFictioneers ⌘
Written for Friday Fictioneers, where our host Rochelle encourages us to be creative by writing a story in 100 words or less using the photo prompt below. Also forEsther’s Word Prompt which is ‘edge’. Here’s where the photo prompt took me.
Written for dVerse Poetics – It’s Not That Scary. Mish invites us to celebrate Halloween by writing a non-scary poem using one of the movie quotes provided for our first line. I have chosen the line “Help Me. Help me be human.” from The Fly (1986) with Jeff Goldblum. Here’s my romantic poem.
“Are you coming or not?” Carl demanded as he took a few steps further into the haunted house at the Springwood Halloween Fair.
Sharon stood there fiddling with the drawstring of her hoodie. She chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes wide and brimming with tears.
“I’m really scared of these places, Carl. I mean, they terrify me. I don’t want to do this.” And the tears came.
This was nothing new to Carl; Sharon hid behind her hands when she tried to watch “The Walking Dead” with him in the comfort of their own living room. He rolled his eyes, tired of Sharon’s childish fears of creatures that don’t exist.
“Look, babe, as I told you a dozen times already, everybody knows this is the best haunted house in the county” Carl replied in his usual condescending tone. “My friends at work said it was awesome and even Hal brought is girlfriend Darleen who’s afraid of her own shadow and she thought it was fabulous. I promise, it’s gonna be a blast.”
Sharon could hear screams coming from insidethe haunted house but everyone came out laughing and quickly lined up to go in again.
“OK, I’ll do it but you have to promise to take me to see the Taylor Swift concert on the big IMAX screen next week.”
Carl happily agreed knowing there was no wayin hell he was going to sit through a Taylor Swift concert. Laughing, he grabbed Sharon’shand and pulled her into the haunted house.
“Don’t let go of my hand, Carl!” Sharon cried out.
“Sharon, just chill out. Why can’t you get it through your head that it’s all fake, it’s just for show and none of these characters are real? I promise I won’t let go of your hand. Now stop being a drama queen and try to have some harmless fun, ok?” Carl could really be a nasty SOB.
The inside of the haunted house was complete sensory overload; there was constant screaming as zombies, vampires, witches, skeletons, ghosts and hideous slasher movie characters jumped out of doorways, flew into windows, dropped down from the ceiling and popped up through the floor.
The place was madness and Sharon was getting claustrophobic. The only thing that kept her from running out in a panic was the familiar feel of Carl’s hand in hers. She couldn’t see an inch in front of her and there was something popping out at every turn. It was horrifying for Sharon.
Before Sharon knew what was happening, the grotesque image of Freddy Krueger suddenly appeared from behind a wall of smoke and menacingly brandished his deadly bladed glove; Sharon couldn’t take it any longer. She screamed out for Carl and pushed her way through the crowd, grateful that he was still with her.
Once outside, Sharon gulped in the fresh air and blasted Carl. “That was the worst experience of my life! It was terrifying and you tricked me. How could you?? I’m not kidding, Carl. I’m really pissed! Carl!! Are you even listening to me, dammit?”
And when Sharon turned to face Carl, she discovered she had been holding on to his severed arm. The next morning Carl’s body was found in the woods behind the haunted house. He had been sliced to pieces. They say karma’s a bitch.
At least Carl was true to Sharon about one thing that night; he never let go of her hand.
This was the sixth night in a row that a nightmare woke me up. I’m a sound sleeper but something was throwing me off and this past week did a number on me. I felt drained and on edge. Now it was 2:00 AM and I was craving a cigarette. I got up and scoured my apartment hoping to find a smoke – which I didn’t – and thinking about why I was having these constant nightmares. I mean, nothing different happened in my life, except I’d started smoking again.
And there was also her.
Last weekend I went to a party and this gorgeous redhead walked up to me and asked me for a light. I’d quit smoking about eight months earlier but for some reason – call it a security blanket – I continued to carry my Bic around in my pocket. This chick was way too hot to let her slip through my fingers so I reached into my jeans and pulled out my lighter.
I flicked my Bic and damn(!) if she didn’t cup both her hands around mine as I lit her cigarette. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, the smoke encircling her head. All the while her eyes never left mine. She had the palest blue eyes I’d ever seen and the contrast against her red hair and mouth was bewitching. Then she did something to me no woman had ever done before; she took the cigarette from her lips and placed it between mine. That move was so intrinsically sexual, I couldn’t think of anything else but possessing this woman. I took a long drag, that familiar heat singeing my lungs.
We shared her cigarette and when there was nothing left, she took me by the hand and led me into the bathroom. Locking the door, she turned her back to me and leaned against the sink staring at my reflection in the full-length mirror. She hiked up her skirt and I was not surprised to see she wasn’t wearing panties. She said two words and they weren’t “Happy Halloween”; I didn’t have to be told twice.
Fifteen minutes later we left the bathroom together. I went to get us a couple of drinks and when I turned around, she was gone. I searched everywhere but couldn’t find her. Just like that – the greatest bathroom sex I ever had and now she was gone. And I was left craving her and another cigarette. That was the night I fell off the wagon.
Now I needed a smoke so badly I tried to salvage butts from the trash but they were all buried under a soggy coffee filter. I had no alternative but to head out to the all-night 7-Eleven.
I grumbled and dragged myself out of bed. I switched on the overhead lamp and immediately cringed and looked away; the damn light hurt my eyes too much. Squinting, I staggered into the bathroom and splashed water on my face. Grabbing a towel, I wiped off and looked in the mirror. Holy shit! What I saw startled yet intrigued me. My eyes had changed from brown to ice blue. There was no denying that woman had done a number on me.
It was now 2:30 AM. I threw on yesterday’s clothes, turning up the collar of my leather jacket. Before venturing out I grabbed my shades. Stepping outside, I was momentarily caught off guard by the number of freaks walking around; then I remembered Halloween was just winding down for many partygoers. A bright moon cast strange, elongated shadows across the walls. Dressed in black clothes, I must have blended in with the silhouettes for no one took notice of me.
As I entered the store I was pleased to see there was only one other customer – a nondescript woman wearing a hooded cape. I stood behind her at the register and when she turned to leave, I was blown away to see it was the redhead from the party. She looked directly at me, gave a little laugh and left without so much as a word. I was glad my dark glasses hid the lust in my eyes. I quickly bought my smokes and bolted from the store.
I looked up and down the street; nothing – she was gone. Then I spotted her standing across the street watching me. “Ok” I thought. “This is gonna be interesting.” As soon as I started heading toward her, she turned and began walking away. She walked slowly, her cape swaying side to side, and I followed her just as slowly. She took her time and I had no doubts she knew I was there. She climbed the steps to an old apartment building; I followed. She casually walked up three flights of stairs and down the hall to the last door where she stopped, removed a key from her pocket and unlocked the door, leaving it slightly ajar as she stepped inside. If that wasn’t an invitation, I didn’t know what was. I entered the apartment and closed the door behind me.
The room was awash in moonlight streaming through the window where she stood staring up at the night sky. I lit a cigarette, took a long drag and handed it to her. She placed the cigarette between her bright red lips, took a couple of puffs and tossed it out the window. She turned to face me and shrugged off her cape. Of course she was naked; I would have been sorely disappointed if she wasn’t. She loosened her hair and a cascade of long crimson tresses escaped and flowed silently over her flawless body. Her hair shimmered in the moonlight; the fragrance of strawberries and honeysuckle filled the room. She was intoxicating.
She drew me closer and parted her lips in a sultry smile; it was then that I saw her delicate fangs. I was aroused, my cock throbbing. A deep passion rose in me and I groaned with a fierce hunger. I turned my head and willingly offered her my neck. She feasted on me, then gave herself up to me with shameless abandon.
Whatever I had become that night didn’t matter. Nothing mattered any more. My savage blood boiled as I barked at the moon.
The Elephant's Trunk 