The high doesn’t last.
Yes, in that way it is like sex. The pleasure shoots you to the moon—until you orgasm, come crashing down, back to earth, where you roll over and realize the man lying in your bed is a rotting corpse.
Or vulture, as they prefer. It sounds less “Night of the Living Dead,” less “Give me your brains.” Although, we still want brain…
After he’s had his fill, he leaves with half my spleen and small intestines dangling from his mouth.
All I can think about is what to eat next…
The A to Z Challenge is back, and this year, I’m giving you 26 drabbles (100-word stories) using some of my favorite unused or underused tags.
Today’s tag was “vulture.”
Stay tuned for “W” tomorrow!
I watched the vulture looking at me hungrily as I lay on the ground bleeding and injured.
She’d missed my head, possibly losing her nerve; or maybe a small part of her cold, black heart still skipped a beat for me, causing her to shift the gun slightly to the right before pulling the trigger.
The passion we’d shared for one another once burned hotter than the flames of a forest fire. I remembered her electrified kisses, how they sent sparks down my spine. I could still feel her warm, naked body against mine as I held her for the last time. Before she opened my laptop to look for movie times. Before she saw the pictures of perky breasts, the videos of bouncing, bare bottoms.
My numbing hand is too weak to stop the blood flow gushing from my neck. They say the last place you look before you die is the sky, but I don’t want to see the vulture when it spreads its wings.
word count: 150
I understand serials are frustrating for some bloggers, but this opening line for Mondays Finish the Story was begging me continue on from last week’s post. If it’s any consolation, you really don’t need to read part 1 to get the story. 🙂