Flash Fiction

To anyone who might be following any of my posts here or at The Wryters' Block, you may have read that I've taken a workshop on flash fiction. Maybe you've even read The Kill at The Wryters' Block. Here it is. I'm posting it here, The Kill, my first piece of flash fiction. Let me know what you think. The Kill

By
Arsoleen Woolcock

Mirrors don’t lie. They reflect what they see.

I’m beautiful - soft, caramel-colored skin; tawny eyes with gold flecks; lithe, slender body; long legs. Dressed in a tight-fitting, hip-hugging dress, I expect Dwayne’s head to spin.

I twirl my long, luxurious, waist-length tress. Wow, if it weren’t narcissistic, I’d be in love with myself, so I couldn’t blame a fellow for finding me irresistible. But thinking I'd have sex with him on the first date? Well, I'm not that kind of girl. The corners of my mouth curve into a smile. Tonight Dwayne would find out exactly what kind of girl I am.

Almost 8 o'clock. I have a date to keep. I wonder if he'll still reek of fear? That's why I enjoy meeting at Park Central. Most men know about the murders. Dwayne knew. I could see it in his eyes.

I grin, lick wet hungry lips. Sexy, delicious fear turned me on.

Already my blood-shot eyes blaze. Fangs drag open my mouth. My throat thirsts for the taste of human blood, Dwayne’s blood.

Ready for the kill, I vault from the opened window. Like lightning, I speed toward the bench where Dwayne waited.

Salivating, I stand upright, watch him from dark shadows. One more second and I’d rip into mangled flesh, suck his blood!

He turns, spies me, the huntress.

I eyeball his twisted face.

“This is payback, Bitch!”

I snarl.

“For my brother!”

Ghastly screams shriek through the moonlit night as silver bullets pulverize my body.