Unbroken snow like a fresh page.
But how can I write my next chapter when my muse lies under the snow, under the earth, under the stone?
I tried to put an arrow through his heart and all I got was a bow-string burn and life without parole.
Just My Type
I love the way she drains my blood. I love her smile. I love her eyes. I love how she gives me my cookies and juice and says I’m her favorite Red Cross donor.
In the Waiting Room
Knit one, purl two. Her needles flicker, measuring time by stitches, hope by inches.
In the Garden
I thought it was a butterfly until I tried to catch it. It glared and cursed me. Now I’m the butterfly. Damned fairies!
Table For Two
I mix up their orders.
“Are you stupid?” she laughs.
Must be the last straw; he leaves her sitting alone.
He comes back later and asks me out.
You’d be surprised how often that works.
Two people can keep a secret, if one of them’s dead.
So, after we hid the necklace, I dropped Max’s body in a sinkhole.
When I went back to the stash, a viper had found it.
Now the secret’s safe forever.
“Isn’t it lovely?” She cast a sideways look at him.
“Not as lovely as you,” he said, obediently.
“You don’t sound like you mean it.”
Another sip of his blood, and he did.
He kissed me goodby every day when he left for work.
Except that day.
Why, of all days, not that day?
Last year, all the neighborhood kids dressed like pirates and sparkly guys.
Last year, I would not have fit in.
This year, it’s zombies! This year, I walk among them again.
Bonfire, bonefire, bones on fire.
“You’ll never get away with it.” His final words.
True, but, oh, I’m warm tonight!
The sky is blue as his eyes.
The shadows are black as his fury.
The wind is sharp as his knife.
The taillights of his car are red as blood.
The woods are still as death.
Go to the Flashbacks link for all years’ Hot Flashes.