Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Friday, November 14, 2008
The Kiss
The lining of her ankle length chinchilla fur coat tickled her cheek and made her sneeze for the fifth time since leaving the restaurant. Her fast pace excited the cobblestones of the walkway into a staccato of echoing taps that bounced back and forth through the narrow alley between the four story buildings that seemed to lean ominously together, eating the faint moonlight that tried to make its way through.
The angry clacking of her heels was punctuated by intermittent sneezes and curses about being stood up for the tenth time and never agreeing to another blind date as long as she lived.
At 42 she thought she would have been over the sting of it by now, never knowing love, the feeling of someone that isn’t related to you, wrapping their arms around you in post-coital bliss. A French kiss never experienced is just two people on the T.V. locking lips and rubbing your face in it. The curse of love lies in the never giving up the search for it. Hence the tenth blind date, and tenth time being stood up. Yep, the sting is still there.
So wrapped up in her hushed ranting about the woes of love never found, her excited heels slipped on a loose cobblestone. Her silk clad legs flew wildly up over her head, heels flying, arms pin wheeling as she landed on her back with her fur coat to soften the blow. Injury added to humiliating insult, she lay for a moment trying to catch her breath.
A silhouette darker than the surrounding night hovered over her a few seconds before speaking.
“Are you all right miss’s?” The low voice with a soft lisp reached to her core and plucked nerves she didn’t even know existed until this man spoke. “That was quite the slip you took. “
“Um… I think so. I just need to catch my breath and I should be fine”, she replied hesitantly.
With a firm hand on her arm the gentleman lifted her to her feet.
“There you are now love. Safe and sound, sure you didn’t break anything in that tumble now, right?”
“No, I am fine, I assure you. All is well, and by the way I passed up miss’s about twenty years ago, but I thank you for the compliment.” She replied more confidently.
“Ah, well you’re still a babe compared to the centuries I have seen lover. So, be thankful for that.”
He mused in a rueful tone.
“What!” Shock and confusion rang from her voice.
“Michael!” a shout from the other end of the alley whipped her head around. “I swear you are such a child. Stop playing with your food already.”
“So sorry Oli!” the chivalrous man still holding her laughed. “Be right there.”
“What’s going on? Who are you?” Her soft voice sounded panicked now and Michael could hear her rapid heart beating, ripping his pretense aside.
“I am your lover ducky. Come give me a kiss.” Steel clamps binding the fur coat to her body like a second skin, Michael pulled the irritating fur away from her collar. He whispered, a ghost of breath against her mouth, “first the kiss,” and gently parted her lips with his and kissed her more thoroughly than she had ever dreamed possible. Sharp pinpricks of pain coursed across her tongue and lips as his teeth sliced her mouth to ribbons.
“Now my supper” he whispered as he pulled away from her savaged mouth and plunged his fangs into the faintly wrinkled side of her neck and ripped out her throat. “I do love you ducky, the way a man loves a perfect cut of prime rib.” Michael pulled a black handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the blood from his lower jaw as she stared blankly up at the night sky.
The angry clacking of her heels was punctuated by intermittent sneezes and curses about being stood up for the tenth time and never agreeing to another blind date as long as she lived.
At 42 she thought she would have been over the sting of it by now, never knowing love, the feeling of someone that isn’t related to you, wrapping their arms around you in post-coital bliss. A French kiss never experienced is just two people on the T.V. locking lips and rubbing your face in it. The curse of love lies in the never giving up the search for it. Hence the tenth blind date, and tenth time being stood up. Yep, the sting is still there.
So wrapped up in her hushed ranting about the woes of love never found, her excited heels slipped on a loose cobblestone. Her silk clad legs flew wildly up over her head, heels flying, arms pin wheeling as she landed on her back with her fur coat to soften the blow. Injury added to humiliating insult, she lay for a moment trying to catch her breath.
A silhouette darker than the surrounding night hovered over her a few seconds before speaking.
“Are you all right miss’s?” The low voice with a soft lisp reached to her core and plucked nerves she didn’t even know existed until this man spoke. “That was quite the slip you took. “
“Um… I think so. I just need to catch my breath and I should be fine”, she replied hesitantly.
With a firm hand on her arm the gentleman lifted her to her feet.
“There you are now love. Safe and sound, sure you didn’t break anything in that tumble now, right?”
“No, I am fine, I assure you. All is well, and by the way I passed up miss’s about twenty years ago, but I thank you for the compliment.” She replied more confidently.
“Ah, well you’re still a babe compared to the centuries I have seen lover. So, be thankful for that.”
He mused in a rueful tone.
“What!” Shock and confusion rang from her voice.
“Michael!” a shout from the other end of the alley whipped her head around. “I swear you are such a child. Stop playing with your food already.”
“So sorry Oli!” the chivalrous man still holding her laughed. “Be right there.”
“What’s going on? Who are you?” Her soft voice sounded panicked now and Michael could hear her rapid heart beating, ripping his pretense aside.
“I am your lover ducky. Come give me a kiss.” Steel clamps binding the fur coat to her body like a second skin, Michael pulled the irritating fur away from her collar. He whispered, a ghost of breath against her mouth, “first the kiss,” and gently parted her lips with his and kissed her more thoroughly than she had ever dreamed possible. Sharp pinpricks of pain coursed across her tongue and lips as his teeth sliced her mouth to ribbons.
“Now my supper” he whispered as he pulled away from her savaged mouth and plunged his fangs into the faintly wrinkled side of her neck and ripped out her throat. “I do love you ducky, the way a man loves a perfect cut of prime rib.” Michael pulled a black handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the blood from his lower jaw as she stared blankly up at the night sky.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Casualty
Here is another story that I wrote for my RedBubble group Pulp Noir.
He’d been hiding now for two days.
The whole fiasco had started when a dust storm had blown through the city last Thursday. Then, the madness started. The onset was gradual, like a case of the flu coming on, but the epidemic spread like wildfire through rain starved grassland. As if all the soft tissue in their bodies could no longer be contained by their skin. The bleeding started at the obvious openings. After about three hours the very skin started to break down and the gore escaped that way. Death was inevitable.
The only problem with that was that it didn’t last. When the dead woke up, they were hungry, and not like burger and fries will fix this, hungry. He’d seen that first hand when the undead had pulled a cop out of his car, and had a piggy buffet in the middle of the street.
For some reason, he hadn’t been affected by the spore. A small time con, with a little murder thrown in here and there for the right amount of money, and you would have thought he’d be one of the first to bite it. A coward at heart he huddled in the dirty hotel room with Friday’s newspaper his only connection to the outside world. He picked up the phone again, it was still dead.
A scream sounded from somewhere in the hotel. He pulled his knees up to his chest and molded himself to the desk. Someone was running up the hallway outside. The undead didn’t run. Brute strength they had in spades but not coordination.
He untangled his legs and crawled to the door. He pulled the chain off its hook and pulled the door open a few inches. A woman was in the hallway.
He eyed the other end of the corridor and saw what she was running from. Three of them came shambling on, leaving pieces of themselves in their wake. He silently pulled his head back through the crack in the door and put the chain back on. He returned to his spot under the desk.
A few seconds later the screaming started again, only this time accompanied by wet tearing sounds. Sweat poured out of him as he shook uncontrollably.
It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault. I couldn’t have done anything for that broad. We’re all on our own no. A moan of horror escaped his quivering lips. Sanity fled and animal instinct took over. He ran to the door pulling so hard the chain broke off its latch. He started to run away from what was left of the woman and the undead still feeding on her, and collided with one of the beasts. Steel bands wrapped around his torso and he had breath left for one shriek as the zombie crushed all of his internal organs in one massive bear hug. He was just another casualty of the bio war that the powers that be had unleashed on the planet.
He’d been hiding now for two days.
The whole fiasco had started when a dust storm had blown through the city last Thursday. Then, the madness started. The onset was gradual, like a case of the flu coming on, but the epidemic spread like wildfire through rain starved grassland. As if all the soft tissue in their bodies could no longer be contained by their skin. The bleeding started at the obvious openings. After about three hours the very skin started to break down and the gore escaped that way. Death was inevitable.
The only problem with that was that it didn’t last. When the dead woke up, they were hungry, and not like burger and fries will fix this, hungry. He’d seen that first hand when the undead had pulled a cop out of his car, and had a piggy buffet in the middle of the street.
For some reason, he hadn’t been affected by the spore. A small time con, with a little murder thrown in here and there for the right amount of money, and you would have thought he’d be one of the first to bite it. A coward at heart he huddled in the dirty hotel room with Friday’s newspaper his only connection to the outside world. He picked up the phone again, it was still dead.
A scream sounded from somewhere in the hotel. He pulled his knees up to his chest and molded himself to the desk. Someone was running up the hallway outside. The undead didn’t run. Brute strength they had in spades but not coordination.
He untangled his legs and crawled to the door. He pulled the chain off its hook and pulled the door open a few inches. A woman was in the hallway.
He eyed the other end of the corridor and saw what she was running from. Three of them came shambling on, leaving pieces of themselves in their wake. He silently pulled his head back through the crack in the door and put the chain back on. He returned to his spot under the desk.
A few seconds later the screaming started again, only this time accompanied by wet tearing sounds. Sweat poured out of him as he shook uncontrollably.
It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault. I couldn’t have done anything for that broad. We’re all on our own no. A moan of horror escaped his quivering lips. Sanity fled and animal instinct took over. He ran to the door pulling so hard the chain broke off its latch. He started to run away from what was left of the woman and the undead still feeding on her, and collided with one of the beasts. Steel bands wrapped around his torso and he had breath left for one shriek as the zombie crushed all of his internal organs in one massive bear hug. He was just another casualty of the bio war that the powers that be had unleashed on the planet.
Monday, November 3, 2008
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