just in time for Halloween
I’m honored to be included in Chicago Literati, with my flash piece, The Dipping Bread
I hope you enjoy reading, as much as I enjoy writing about vampires and their victims 😘
THE DIPPING BREAD
It happens at the Fondue Palace. Near the cheese fountain. Two lovers twirling their fondue forks suggestively. He’s been ignoring his inner voice all evening. “Something is very wrong with your date, John.” The very same voice that hours before implored him to make an escape out the backdoor. Get out before it’s too late. Too late.
Suri’s sultry eyes are vacant things. John can’t gaze into those shining black planets orbiting his date’s face. He turns away from the closeness of her flawless skin. She giggles and flicks her tongue into John’s exposed ear. He laughs nervously. He senses a curious warm spot on his cheek. Crimson droplets appear on the dipping bread. His hand touches his face and traces the warmth down to his neck. The wetness tints his fingertips. He slides his thumb and middle finger together. Then apart. His eyes focus on what he sees. He’s unable to wrestle out the weak cry pinned behind his gum-line. Other unwitting customers continue gleefully stabbing at bread cubes. Drowning baked dough in pots of hot liquified cheese.
No words will leave John’s chained voice. Suri’s fondue fork finds her date’s palm. She guides the two-pronged metal, like a serpent’s fangs, along the meat of John’s hand then sweetly plunges the sharp points into his flesh. She guides his limp fist up to her wine-colored mouth. Her satin skin smells like ancient ice. A burning sensation shoots from John’s brain to his groin. An explosion unlike any erotica he’s ever experienced.
Suri’s slim, powerful hand slides beneath John’s shirt. His sweating back is buckling. She holds him up effortlessly with a polished finger. John clenches his jaw. His uninjured hand reaches around his date’s cool neck. Forceful and swift–he pulls her face to his. He kisses this “woman” in a manner unfamiliar to his own lips. Their mouths sucking like uncontrolled siphons. Lightning between his legs. Shockwaves ripple inside his thigh muscles. Metallic saliva flows back and forth between their twisting tongues. Cold bliss blankets John’s dying instincts. It’s blood, John. It’s blood.
since Halloween is near and my soon-to-be printed (yea) book
is due mid-December or earlier (yea)
I’m posting the only verse in love of the monster
that pays direct homage to this most wicked and deliciously sweet celebration
love of the monster, is a black and white illustrated book
color was added here to protect the innocent;)
Sweet are the wide-eyed faces, painted white as skeleton bone.
Precious are the little forms, costumed bright in faux silk.
Humorous are the small heads, wearing pointed hats.
Innocent are the bowed lips, timidly yelling for treats.
Tender are the tiny hands, grasping, in the spirit of Halloween.
Thank you. Happy Halloween to those joining in the fun. May you dream of sweet treats and happy smiles.
Please keep West Africa in your thoughts.
Pumpkin Sweet penciled while on a subbing break.