It’s been too long. I started a story using only words provided by my Twitter companions as inspiration. No outlines. No previously created characters. Just inspiration of randomness.
It is time to continue that tale with words provided by @Jessrosenbooks serendipituous, @slowi club, downstairs, and @leesgreenberg another pedestrian love affair.
This chapter stands on its own as a flash fiction tale, but is also a part of what is (hopefully) a much larger concept. If you missed the first chapter, or would like to reread it, check out the And Then category tag.
“I want to go shopping.” Candy stomped her bunny-rabbit slipper clad foot and puffed out her collagen-injected lips into a cherry red pout.
“I brought you shopping yesterday,” Chris said.
“That was for a dress. I need shoes.”
“You can’t count high enough to know how many shoes you already own.”
Chris dunked a sponge into the sink. The soapy water steamed in lazy tendrils tempting him like the pools of Aphrodite (that bitch). He grabbed another dish and scrubbed. Candy refused to wash dishes. She said she couldn’t because dishwater ruined her weekly manicures.
“If we’re going to The Downstairs tonight, I need new shoes.” She stomped her foot again, but the effect was lost in the flopping ears of the rabbit head on her toes.
“I’m not going to that trashy club,” Chris said. He rinsed the dish and set it in the rack. He couldn’t remember her excuse for not drying dishes.
“Then isn’t it serendipitous that you met me there?”
“You mean ironic.” He sighed and rolled his eyes at the dirty water. He pulled the plug from the sink, smiling at the gulg-gulg noise the drain made as it drank down his filth.
“Don’t tell me what I mean.”
Chris snatched a dish towel from the counter and turned to face her as he dried his hands. “I’ll tell you something else then. Get out.”
She laughed and patted his arm.
“You’re so cute. I heart you, Chris. Come on now, chores are done and we can–”
“I’ll not tell you again,” he said in a low growl. “Not one more word.”
“Oh, so I’m just another pedestrian love affair, am I? Don’t even think about telling me I’m saying that wrong too, because I’m not. You’re using me and that’s that. I see right through you, you’re–”
Chris dropped the dishcloth and swung. He cut off her rant as his fingers plowed into her chest. Ribs cracked and splintered. She stopped mid word, mouth hanging open. Her eyes widened, staring at him, through him, and into him. It was the inner view that finished her off. In one brief moment between his fingers wrapping around her heart and her heart realizing it lost its fight, she glimpsed his world and it destroyed her mind beyond what he could do to her body.
She wheezed through the hole in her chest. Blood dripped from her gaping mouth.
“What’s that, love?” Chris asked. He leaned forward, his ear to her lips. “Yes, love, I do believe I killed you.”
He lifted his hand to her overly made up face, wiping blood across her rouge-brightened cheek even as it drained of its underlying color.
“Your heart is mine,” he said.
And then he took a bite of it.