Week #3 Let Me Tell You A Tale… The Entrance To The Tunnel Is His Only Way Out #kdsuspense #amwriting #flashfiction

images

 

You voted  in the writing prompt ” the entrance to the tunnel is his only way out.” Link in with us and write your own story. Use #kdsuspense , share it ,or post it below however you want and  we will find you.

  Didi and I responded to your vote. Remember we never discuss who writes what, or how the tale should go. Author A starts writing and stops randomly, and then hands  her work to Author B to finish, we put our work together, giggle and press publish… tada!  It’s week #3 people! A super short story this week. Our main man Juan is on the run….. in Mexico what has he done?

The entrance to the tunnel is his only way out….

 

 Scene One Author A

The entrance to the tunnel is his only way out, Juan is stuck between a rock and a hard place as they say. He has no choice but to run through the dark tunnel. He ditched his ride and now he’s a foot soldier, something he hates.

 He’s a wanted man. He successfully crossed the border into Mexico on the run from Santos, and his men. For three whole years he stayed faithful to the Atlanta Thugs, a family he was happy to be part of. He kept his oath of respect, honesty, loyalty and brotherhood. He trusted Santos and followed his rules as a devoted gang member. He always remembered the Atlanta Thug’s code of conduct when it came to money…In God we trust, everyone else pays cash. It made him laugh the first time he made his oath and repeated the words after Santos.

This time Santos crossed the line one too many times. He was fed up of being the runner, the fall- back guy, the one standing on the street corner, pushing merchandise to crack heads that would do anything for a hit.

A rush of adrenaline runs through his veins, as he runs through the dark tunnel, with a hundred grand of unmarked bank notes in his duffle bag , a joint, and a gun he’s not afraid to use.

He’s seen it all, gangs, drugs, prostitution there’s not much that fazes him. At thirty five years old, by now Juan hoped he’d have his shit together. The life of a thug pulled him away from academic achievement. His mother begged him every day to give up this life and make something of himself. Her voice echoes through his mind as he runs along. I never brought you here from the ghettos of Brazil Juan, for you to get caught up in the very thing I’ve tried to protect you and your brother from.

He whispers as he approaches the end of the tunnel.

“Sorry mama”

Once outside he leans against the brick wall at the foot of the tunnel. Looking around he checks there’s no one within sight. He crouches down and lights up his joint. Taking a long well- deserved pull, he figures out his next move. Santos and his men could be anywhere by now, once they realised they’re  a hundred grand lighter, and he is nowhere to be seen the manhunt would kick off. All Santos had to do was give him a bigger slice of the pie, promote him up the ranks rather than see him as just a runner. He brought it on himself.

Juan has plans, big plans with his new found wealth. He’d hide out in Mexico for a while, maybe a few days before he puts stage one of his plan into action.Fully buzzed from the strong joint he walks toward the road he can see up head. He navigates a few bushes in the dark as he makes his way over a fence.

“Where the fuck am I?”

Juan’s eyes dart around keeping a close eye out for Mexican gang members, wanting to know exactly who the fuck he is? And why the fuck he is on their tuff? If need be he’d drop his southern accent and pretend he’s a Mexican, sure he could put on a Mexican accent. He lost his Brazilian Portuguese twang years ago, when he immigrated to the USA  with his mother aged sixteen. At six foot two, tanned skin, with low cut jet black hair he could pass for a Mexican–  he hopes. Juan is a lady’s man in every way, “Pretty Boy” the Atlanta Thugs named him. The ladies swooned over his good looks.

Satisfied there isn’t a Mexican in sight that would question who he is, he raises his hood and walks along. The road is quiet not a soul in sight. He eyes the many cars he walks past deciding which one he should claim. Right now, Juan needs two things a cheap hotel and a ride.

Scene Two Author B

Juan adjusts the heavy duffle bag on his shoulder trying to ease the burden of its weight as he makes his way down to the street. The place is dirty with holed pavement, no sidewalk, and a rancid smell of dead animal permeating the air. Slyly, Juan checks the doors of each car he passes, hoping to come across anything that isn’t locked. A black four door BMW with slightly tinted windows opens, allowing Juan to slide himself into the comfortable gray leather seat on its driver’s side.

It’s much nicer than the piece of shit he’d been stuck driving for the last few years. Just another reminder of how badly Santos had been pissing around with his time and dedication. Making a mockery of him. The fucker deserves this surprise. Juan only wishes he could see the look on Santo’s face when he finds out the entire east side lock box has been drained. Being stuck on the run in a car with no AC had made it  a long miserable trip, especially without any sleep. Now that the night has settled in, Juan can feel his tired body starting to shut down.

The BMW’s push button starter fires the vehicle to life, telling Juan that they keys must be inside somewhere. There is no sense searching for them now, he has to get out of this neighborhood before the owner notices it’s gone. Border towns are dicey enough as it is, the last thing he needs is to get busted stealing a car. Especially a car this nice out of such a shit hole part of a small and clearly poverty stricken town.

Juan only briefly wonders what kind of ranking or status the owner of this ride must have in the community. Not only to have the balls to drive such a luxury, but to also leave it unlocked, there must be some sort of intimidation in order. It could easily be a cartel member, especially so close to the border. The thoughts are quickly pushed aside. It can’t be any worse than the shit storm he’s already caught up in. At least this car will move fast if need be. He’ll ditch it in a town farther south for something else.  

With tightly balled fists Juan makes an effort to quickly rub the sleep from his glassed over pinched together eyes. God, he needs some energy. He reaches into his duffle bag, pulls out a half empty bottle of whiskey, and gulps down a few bubbles before throwing the car in drive and speeding away. There’s a distinct blur of headlights streaming together in the distance. Juan can only assume it’s a main road of  some sort, hopefully a highway.

He’s able to get out of town undetected, and in luxury car. The headlights he had seen were in fact from a highway, and it now wound and twisted through a long sagebrush filled flat. The cars he passed were few and far between. As far as Juan could tell no one has been following him. He’s in the clear and not a soul in the world knows his location. He relit the half burned joint stashed behind his ear, and enjoys the taste of it, while he cruises farther and farther down some back highway of Mexico.

After a couple of hours drive the pull of his eyelids heavied to a nearly unbearable measure. Juan has no idea how close he is  to any kind of a city to be able to find a cheap room. He also knows that if he doesn’t sleep soon then his body will completely shut down. He has to find a place to pull over. The comforting cradle of his leather seat is calling to him.

Juan watches closely for a place to pull off and rest. It didn’t take long to come upon a narrow winding dirt road. He takes the turn with caution. There are  no headlights in sight – no one to see where he’s driving. As long as there are enough hills and trees to conceal the car then he could sleep for as long as he needs before moving on. Hell, he could even wait until the darkness of night consumed the sky again, before he has to go anywhere. It’s the best idea he’s had since he decided to take Santo’s money in the first place.

A sharp bend in the dull sandy road leads the car to an abrupt stop. It’s concealed by tall untouched desert shrubbery. Juan leans his seat back as far as it will go and lets the sleepiness of his eyes consume is entire body. He drifts off into a deep, much needed rest, with one hand reached over to keep a secure hold on the money filled bag on the passenger seat.  

A sweet scented smoke fills Juan’s nostrils waking him. There’s a sharp pain in his arm just below the shoulder, and he’s unable to pull his eyes open fully. They squint and blur as he struggles to regain consciousness. Juan’s vision waves and swirls with streaks of smoke altering the clear blue sky above him. He opens his mouth to let out a painful moan.  It’s caught in the back of his mouth and nothing comes out. Not a sound. A dry throat is closed up tight allowing nothing but air to pass through. Why can’t he talk, and what is  the pain and smoke?

Juan tries to move his limbs and speak but an overbearing weight as heavy as bricks pulls his eyes back shut, and darkness again takes control of his mind. Juan’s body relaxes and he drifts into a strange place, it’s somewhere between wake and unconscious. Perhaps his body is in a state of shock from the loss of blood, or perhaps it’s from the potently brewed Navaho Hopi Tea that was forced down his throat. Most likely it’s a mixture of both that has Juan at the complete mercy of a stout elderly indigenous woman, that happens to be feeding a fire with stacks of cash.

The woman looks up suddenly, her burning violet eyes pierce into Juan’s. Wrinkly leathered skin covers a square face with beady eyes and large high prominent cheekbones. Her chubby and very wrinkled right hand holds out  a plate. On that plate sits a few giant slabs of freshly cut bloody meat. The woman lets out a roll of laughter. The sound of her scratchy voice cackles loudly, breaking through the quiet of the day like the strike of lightning.

Juan again tries to sit up, only to realise that his body is tightly strapped down to a long flat board. Thick leather straps have him bound around the neck, waist, thighs, and an arm. But, only one arm. There is no need for his left arm to be tied. Juan wriggles around in his restraints. Panicked, he quickly comprehends that his arm is completely missing. In it’s place is a hefty dirt colored rag that’s caked with blood and alcohol. Juan tries to scream out in pain, but is unable to. A thick strip of tape holds his mouth shut, with a small gaging cloth shoved inside.  

The sizzling sound of dripping fat falls onto the fire, from a makeshift grill sitting over it. Then again with the cackling laugh. The woman stares at her prey, ready to feast.

Boom! Now who  saw that ending coming?? Join us next Tuesday for another story. Tomorrow the voting for next week’s prompt, will be over on Didi’s blog.  This week we’re switching the prompts up a bit to keep you all on your toes.Get your votes in before this Friday !!

Read previous stories here. a dark historical  flash fiction crime story, (18 + reading)  and one suspenseful tale.

This interactive writing challenge is simple and insanely creative. It’s a group effort and we are so glad to have you join in the writing fun!!  I hope you’re ready to challenge Didi and I by choosing which prompts we can transform into stellar suspense!  Give us your best shot!  You vote on our weekly prompt, and we provide the entertainment. It’s that simple!  The super easy steps are as follows:

STEP ONE: Every Wednesday well post a voting pole with a few prompts to choose from.
STEP TWO: With the click of a button, you cast your vote on a prompt. (voting will stay open for three days.)
STEP THREE: READ AND ENJOY!  Every week on the following Tuesday we will post the short story that transformed from the very winning prompt you chose!
 
All comments on the story posts will be open. We love feedback, and I’m willing to bet you will never guess who wrote what!!   Therein a challenge of your own! (Yes, one of us writes in British English, and one of us in American. We are well aware, and ready for some trickery. Trust me, we are brilliant at adapting styles.)
Updated-Telling-Tales-Weekly-Challenege-Kim-&-Didi

Bedtime Reading Or Coffee Break? #amreading

 

 

coffeethoughts

Hi guys,

Well, it maybe the middle of the day for you depending on your time zone?? Here is some bedtime or coffee break reading. Just a short note to say it is now a hundred times easier to download a two – four chapter preview, of anyone of my books, on my author site.  I have a new page! … called “chapter preview” oddly… yeah how original Kim  :).  Knock yourselves out if you’d like to dip into some feel good romance, romantic suspense or even something a little steamy.  Soon there will be some crime / thriller heading your way. Stay tuned. Click here.

Happy reading!

 

Miracle Challenge Week #10: #4 An Old Letter- Poem

Write a story/poem using prompt theme: An old letter

Another year has passed, you’ve been gone for so long,

No where to be found, silence is the sound,

Our letters are all I have, I keep them as they remind me of the love we once had,

Love is blind, and it can sometimes be unkind, if I said to you let’s press rewind would you?

Do you still love me?, sometimes I feel like I love you, but you up  and you,

Left, so now these it’s just  an old letter that I have left,

Everything happens for a reason, they say love changes  just like a season,

To me my love for you is fixed not like a season, solid, and as deep as the ocean,

Together forever,

Ever lasting that’s what thought. But this is not the only war that I have fought, so I will go on one day I’ll burn this  old letter,

Rid my heart of your words of art, I’ll move on and find  me a  brand  new start.

 

MiracleChallenge week# 7: Negative Thoughts Short Story-Continued

REBLOGGING MY OLD FAVOURITES I ENJOYED WRITING 🙂

Ok, so this week, I’ve seen MiracleGirl’s (awesome) word prompt writing challenges, and decided to continue on from the short crime fiction story I wrote for week #5’s challenge, that was  her ” Negative Thoughts” writing challenge. If you’ve not read the first half of the challenge’s short story already you can by clicking here. This is the continued short story in response to week #7’s writing challenge. Write  a short story using the writing prompt: “make yourself comfortable I’ll be back in a minute“.

Short Story Continued: Negative Thoughts

My mind for one second quietens down, it’s like I manage to tune out  the voices in my head. I stop rocking. I look around and take in my surroundings, as if seeing them for the first time in the whole ten years I’ve been detained in this mental institution. The metal frame bed creaks underneath my fragile thin bones, as I move forward and really look around. A dirty brown sink with a leaking tap in the corner, a bedside table- no bedside lamp of course. Oh no “health and safety” they don’t trust me not to smash it to pieces or even worse smash it against one of the many nurses, who check on me every 15 minutes as part of the suicide watch I’m constantly on. A pile of books over in the corner, most of them I’ve read twice over. And that’s it, my home- bare to the bone. A large metal door with a cut-out  toughened plastic glass window takes up the top half of the door, this separates me from the outside world. They look in, I look out.  We play a game- we see who has the balls to stare the longest. Normally it’s me, I love freaking them out-especially the new ones. I stare right through them with a half smile on my face. They can’t stand to look at me for a full 30 seconds, these nurses on suicide watch are weak. They all think I’m a nut job so naturally I give them what they want, for my own entertainment of course when the mood takes me. To them, as long as I’m breathing, not bleeding, or chocking that’s all they care about.

The absence of the  voices in my head allow me to think back clearly to the day. The day my life changed…. I murdered every living member of my immediate family. I go back ten years in my mind to the day I was arrested, and charged with murder as a minor at just 16 years old.

“Sit down, make yourself comfortable.” 

 The Detective said to me as he loosened my handcuffs in interview room 2, at the police station.

”I’m Detective Jones and this is Detective Brown. Today is 27th July 2015, this interview is  being recorded via tape.”

”For the purpose of the tape, please confirm your full name and date of birth?”

“Sophie, Sophie  Lambert born 14.02.99.” I responded.

”And for the purposes of the tape, sir please confirm your name?”

”David Stephens, Sophie’s solicitor- here to protect her rights and interests today while she is interviewed under caution as she’s a minor.” 

“Sophie, you’re under  arrest for the murder of your father, mother and younger brothers you do not have to say anything, but anything you do say may be used against you as evidence in a court of law. Do you understand?”

I stare at him, smile  sweetly and nod.

”Sophie, what happened tonight? Start from the beginning please.”

“It wasn’t me.”            

”Sophie,  let’s not play games we arrested you with matches and petrol in your hands, it’s all over your clothes you smell like a petrol station. What happened if it was not  you?”

“She told me to,she done it.”

“Who?”

“The voice.”

”What voice?”

”Can’t you hear her? She’s laughing at you Detective Jones.”

I started to laugh along with my voice in my head  at this point, I remember I  pointed at Detective Jones and looked over his shoulder behind him and laughed.

”Sophie, this is not a game… who is SHE and what is her name god damn it. 4 people are dead murdered in a viscous house fire. You were the one at the crime scene with petrol and matches.”

Detective Jones slammed his fist down on the plastic table to punctuate his annoyance with me.

 ”I hear her all the time, only I hear her- she makes me do things .It’s not me she uses my body but it’s not me. She said it was for the best.”

”Sophie, are you saying that you hear actual voices out loud telling you things? Can you clarify this please?”

” Yes.”

I  remember, I stared directly into Detective Jones’ eyes deadly serious with my response. He had heart I gave him that, he never looked away. He wasn’t scared to look into the eyes of a murderer and push them into a confession, all in a day’s work to him I could tell. That pissed me off, he did not believe me, all he wanted was a confession not to help me or see why I really done it. No one believed me not even my parents. I heard these voices all the time for well over a year. No one ever thought to check if I was OK? How I was feeling, why I was crying, harming myself, track marks the length of my full inner arm showed the evidence of how disturbed I was at the time I committed murder. 

I snatched up the cup of water in front of me, and threw it all over Detective Jones and his smug face-ass-hole. Detective Jones jumped up out of his seat, while Detective Brown flew around to my side of the table to  handcuff me. I didn’t protest, I let him have his kick out of  handcuffing a minor 16 year old girl. I looked Jones in the eye, raised an eyebrow and pouted. This guy’s a prick I thought to myself, I decided I no longer liked him he was just like the rest, he didn’t want to help me get better and stop the voices, he wanted me in jail.

”She said you don’t believe me and you’re laughing at me?” I pouted at Detective Jones again and added with a sinister look and low whisper ”She also said… Detective you  were having inappropriate thoughts about me just now. Is that true? I am a minor you know.”

Detective  Jones shook his head and sighed.

” You’re a nut job  kid”

” You need help young lady, I’m ordering a psychiatric report- interview terminated at 21 hundred hours.”

With that Detective Jones, stopped the recording and started to dry his suit down with tissue paper. He leaned in close to me, put his face in mine and looked me dead in the eye, he was so close I smelt the coffee on his breath

” Take a seat, make yourself comfortable (Sophie), I’ll be back in the minute. Young lady you’ll be here for a while.

”F*ck you!”

I spat  at him as he and his side kick Detective Brown walked out of the interview room, leaving me and my solicitor alone. Jones called over his shoulder .

” You’re 16 years old young lady, you better watch that smart mouth of yours!”

I pouted again, and then I heard her  she said ” don’t worry we’ll make sure he gets what’s coming to him.”

https://miraclegirlblog.wordpress.com/2016/07/26/miraclechallenge-week-7-dated-26th-july-1st-august-2016/

 

 

 

 

 

MiracleChallenge Week 5: #4 Negative Thoughts

REBLOGGING MY OLD FAVOURITES I ENJOYED WRITING 🙂

Writing Prompt

Write a story /poem using the prompt theme ” Negative Thoughts”

Never meant  to hurt anyone or to  start  that fire it just happened, a call for help rather than a malicious act of unkindness. If I’d known it would have hurt others I would never have done it.  I wasn’t in the right state of mind. I sit here in my room on my bed, head down rocking back and fourth, for 10 years  I’ve been detained under the Mental Health Act 1983 for a crime I did while not in the right frame of mind, plagued with negative thoughts.

Each year that passes, I think this year is the year they’ll release me. I can move on with my life. Instead they shuffle their papers and stare at me like a science project ,through the window. I’m watched observed day and night. 

Grief , misery, loneliness and regret are my daily thoughts and feelings. I grieve over the lives I claimed with my actions it wasn’t me it was the negative voices, I’m miserable as my life for 10 years has been within the confinement of these 4 walls, I’m lonely as no one thinks to come and visit me, and I regret that I did not speak up sooner and say I hear  negative voices within me, I regret my

Actions from all those years ago. My community no longer see me as one of them, this is a small town and word gets around, they whisper in the shadows about me my name is folk law around these parts.

Time is a great healer they say, I’m not healed,  I don’t think that I ever will be. Not until these negative voices leave me. Why did I do it? What were you thinking ?  The police questioned me for hours. As I stood on the stand in court charged with murder and arson the jury looked at me closely debating  -am I am murderer? Or just a girl disturbed.

I had  a father, mother  and 2 brothers I was the eldest of 3. 

Very rarely did anyone stop to think, is she OK? Does she feel in the right state of mind today? Has she heard those voices again today? 

Each year these voices would plague me.

Talking to me , tell me to do things, make me believe that people were after me. The negative thoughts were always on replay in my mind; before the fire, before my outburst.

How could they miss the signs that my mental state was slowing on a steady road to decline. I never did drugs if that’s what you’re thinking, I never drunk alcohol if that’s what you’re thinking.  I left that to my father and constantly depressed mother. 

One hot summers day, I was out in the yard sitting under the large oak tree, the voices started talking to me; I watched my father in the yard sweating and grunting chopping up wood. As his swigged his beer and looked over at me

Ugly voices told me, ” get him before he gets you” ” get him before he puts his grubby hands on you again”.  Negative thoughts ran through my  mind as I watched him closely with a smirk on my face. He  yelled up at the open window to my mother ” get your ass out of bed you good for nothing women.”Mama was always sad, always needed to lay down I couldn’t understand at the time I was only 16. 

Going back over the events of that day , the day I burned down that house with my family inside I rock, back and forth my arms wrapped around myself. The nurse walks past, every 15 minutes.

How are you today” they say to me every day, ” I’m fine” and I rock, I sway. I count down another day… how many until my release day? Criminally insane they labelled me I guess I will never get to see my release day.

Tomorrow is another day, I rock, sway and I prey for all these negative thoughts to go away just for one day.  Day in day out there is no pause button this is my reality every day as the

Seasons pass me, spring, summer, autumn and winter. Years pass me but these negative thoughts never seem to leave me.

**My gosh! This challenge was tough I really did not know which way to go with this one thanks MiracleGirl for another writing work out !**

Writing Prompt: A Tiny Story- Crime Thrill & Suspense! #amwriting

TO GET YOU IN THE MOOD FOR THE CHALLENGE THAT DIDI AND I ARE DOING.. REBLOG OF MY FAV CHALLENGES!

Gabriel clenched his teeth feeling the porcelain slide. He took a deep breath, relaxed his jaw. “You have two choices,” he said, “you can leave on your feet or on a gurney…” (Continue to write about who Gabriel is and who he is talking to.)Female-Private-Investigators-Eliza-0614333632_1

Gabriel looks Sanchez in the eye he waits for his response. He is losing his patience with this no good snitch. Gabriel pulls back the trigger on his gun and steps forward, pushing his face in front of Sanchez. The two men square up. At six-foot-two, Gabriel towers over Sanchez’s five-foot-ten height.

“I’ll say it one more time for you Sanchez, just in case you never heard me correct.”

“Who the f*ck ratted out on me? If it wasn’t you then who?”

Placing the gun to the right- hand side of Sanchez’s temple, he continues.

“You can leave on your feet, or on a gurney Sanchez. Now who the f*ck—“

“All right, all right, like I said it wasn’t me Gabriel, you know I’d never do that”

“Keep talking Sanchez.”

“I was over at the bar yesterday, I heard whispers that Don wants to settle an old score with you.”

“What bar?”

“The Nag’s Head— Over in Camden Town.”

“So you’re saying Don O’Conner ratted me out to the poe-poe, as he has an old score to settle—right?”

“Right, it could have been him.”

Gabriel lowers his gun and takes a step back from Sanchez. He looks him up and down. A fully-grown man tied up to a wooden post in the centre of a south London warehouse. He can’t help but laugh at the sight of Sanchez in nothing but his underpants. He circles him, like a lion about to pounce. Racking his brain over what score Don would want to settle. Then again, Gabriel North has a reputation as one of the most feared men in London, he has made plenty enemies.  He hails originally from Birmingham in the midlands, but moved south after he realised the streets of London really can be paved with gold— the black market is booming down south in London.

 “Now why would Don want to rat me out to the police Sanchez?

“He got wind of the deal you made with Joe, from what I heard Don wanted to get in there first— take over that area of London to distribute his goods to.”

Gabriel pauses to take in what Sanchez has said. He has a point, the deal he made with Joe in reality is an invasion on Don’s patch.

 “You better not be lying to me Sanchez?”

Gabriel, pokes Sanchez in the chest  with his gun to punctuate his question.

“No sir, that’s what I heard”

“All right, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. I want you to head over to the Nag’s Head and find out what else Don’s up to.”

“You want me to inform on him?”

“Yes, and you better be worth the time I’m giving you to do it—I want answers and fast”

Gabriel nods to his henchmen in corner of the dark warehouse, as a signal to un-tie Sanchez. At least he has a starting point. He now knows who ratted him out to the poe-poe.

His next move is to find out exactly what it will take  for Don O’Connor to retract his statement to the police. Be it money, a threat to him and his family or worse death, Gabriel doesn’t care. Don will be the next visitor to his warehouse, as soon as Sanchez informs him of exactly what Don is up to.

 

To be continued! I actually have to stop writing ( sigh)  the phone rang-I have visitors on the way to see us today. So I guess I better start the housework and change out of my pyjamas. I’ll be back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

MiracleChallenge week #9: #1”Everyone has a dark side” short story continued….

idea

TO GET YOU IN THE MOOD FOR MINE AND DID’S CHALLENGE RE-BLOGGING SOME OF MY FAV WRITING PROMPTS. 🙂

It’s Tuessssssssday yeah! That can can only mean Miracle Girl’s writing challenge is up and Kim’s in the hot seat in the kitchen ready to go.  For week #9’s writing prompt challenge, I’ll continue the short story I wrote  way back for  the challenge she set for week #4. The word prompt Miracle gave us for week #4  was ”everyone has a dark-side, he doesn’t show his.”If you’ve not read the start of the story for that week’s challenge click here. Below is my  continued story for week #9 using this week’s word prompts.

Write a short story using the prompt sentence : ” Truth or dare” he asked

The sight of blood on my left breast put me in a state of total shock .I  remember I looked at this freak of a guy who I loved so much, and wondered exactly what he meant  by ”the freaks come out at night.” For a full thirty seconds we stared at each other, looking deeply into each other’s souls asking questions with our eyes. The air  was still and misty with our hot breath, as it met the cold night air.  He broke the silence first, ”it’s Halloween, lighten up!” he was all smiles as if nothing happened.

”Are you crazy? Do you know what you just did?, You bit me Stephen.” My voice came out like a high pitched squeak. ” C’mon Jade, I know you like it rough I was just playing.” I raised my eyebrows at him. “Rough? Stephen there’s rough and there’s rooouuuugh and that is not my thing.” I turned my back and started to walk away, I was cold my Halloween costume did nothing to shield me from the cold night air,  I wrapped my cape around me and head back inside. I glanced over my shoulder at Stephen, he stood with his back turned to me looking up at the moon. Crazy ass mother ****** is all I could think, but I loved that man he was my crazy ass.

As I entered the party,I was glad for the warmth and normality of loud music and people having a good time. I’d been seeing Stephen for almost a year, I liked him … a lot, but something was a little off with him. He had a dark side, I knew it, I could feel it and tonight he definitely showed it.

”Hey, where have you been?” Jess ,my best friend grabbed me by my cape as I walked passed the kitchen on my way to the bathroom, to check out my bite mark. I covered myself so the wound was not exposed. Jess pulled me to one side and offered me her drink. I took a swig and winced. “You’re missing truth or dare come and join us.” ”Um, I’m just ganna head  to the bathroom and I’ll come join you in a second.” Jess eyed me suspiciously, ”Where’s Stephen?” Good point my inner voiced screamed.”Outside still, having a smoke he be in, in a moment, Jess I’ll be right back.” I dashed off the the bathroom to inspect my left breast.

Five minutes later, after I stemmed the blood flow, I entered the living room. Everyone was gathered in a circle with a bottle in the middle ,  a tell tell sign of truth or dare. The bottle had landed on Cece.

” Truth or dare ?  he (Morgan) asked  Cece with a devilish smile on his face, ”truth”  Cece responded flicking her long bone straight raven black hair over her  shoulder, she’s pretty all the senior boys in college  liked her, her exotic appearance made them lust after her – caramel skin and delicate features, she stood at 5’11. I was always envious of her height matched against my 5’5 height.

” OK who would you rather Stephen or Samuel?” Morgan said boldly and took a long sip of his drink.  Cece blushed  and stared at the ceiling a smile played on the edge of her lips. ” Oh my God Morgan are you serious ? Really? What kind of a question is that they are both my ex-boyfriends and in the room.” Morgan threw his head back and laughed, “Yeah that’s the point!”  Cece bit her lip and looked around,  for added drama in true Cece fashion she licked her lips and raised her eyebrows  as she looked over at Stephen stood in the corner. ” Stephen, of course, he has a wild side no girl can resist.”

I move from the door way and  strut into the room, right on que my four inch heels clicking against the wood floor. I dramatically  opened up my cape so my full sexy vampire costume was on show, my  fishnet stockings, suspenders, red corset and heels all on show. I walked over the Stephen  with a dramatic sway in my hips and draped myself over him for everyone to see. Cece looks me up and down, from my four inch heels to the top of my red hair, I pout at her ” anit that the truth Cece?” I stared back at her giving her the hands off my man look every girl knows the code for. Inside I laughed, as she cut her eye at me and folded her arms across her chest.

 As the game continued and the bottle was spun again,Stephen took me in his arms and kissed me. ” Let’s go, I wanna play our own little game do you?” ” What kind of game?” I smile naughtily at him remembering the chains, whips and duct tape I kept asking him about at his place.   ” How about  truth or dare, ?”  he asked. he winked at me…. ” Back at my place.”