My first friday flash in a couple of weeks. Didn’t feel like writing one today either, but thought: I should.
The full moon rose above the tree line, big and round and dirty white, like someone had smeared dusty fingers across it.
She looked away, not wanting to see it. Terrible thing.
Flowers buried their heads in their petals all along the lawn. When she was little, she used to think they slept and sang them a lullaby in the evening.
She knew better now, didn’t she?
She bent to pick a bloodroot. Its white petals were tightly furled and soft as a newborn’s head. She picked one and let it drop on the dark green grass.
I will die.
Another petal floated to the ground. He will die.
A third petal joined its siblings. I will die.
A wolf emerged from the copse of woods and padded closer. His blond fur gleamed in the moonlight.
The fourth petal drifted down to rest on her sandaled foot. He will die.
His fur wavered and rippled under the full moon.
A fifth white petal wafted away in a gust of wind. I will die.
A man rose from the grass, tall, naked and skin like brightly polished copper.
The sixth petal landed on his black hair. He will die.
“We need to talk, babe,” he rumbled.
They did not.
The seventh petal circled down to land on the ground between them. I will die.
She pointed the gun she had taken from our locker. It held silver bullets she had especially commissioned. “There is nothing left to say.”
The last petal drifted away, out of sight on the wind. He will die.
The shot missed him, smacked into the ground behind him. He never even flinched. Bastard.
He took several steps forward. “Come on, babe. You don’t want to shoot me.”
She turned away. “I want you gone.”
His arms closed around her waist. “I am sorry. It won’t happen.”
His heat seeped through her clothes. “No. It won’t.”
“I can make it up to you.” He blew a breath in her ear.
“You can’t. My mother’s crystal! You can’t replace it.”
“Give me a chance. Please.”
She huffed out a breath.