That First Cuppa Joe
She awoke early, tossing her light quilt aside before slipping on a wadded Nirvana t-shirt. She twirled and hummed her way to the kitchen, flinging back the curtains, remembering to brew the coffee. After the frigid darkness of winter, spring was regenerating.
Shimmying back to the bedroom, she gasped at the sight of Joe, last night's bartender, shriveled with glazed eyes, his mouth agape in horror. Another blackout. She never remembered draining her victims.
She shrugged, returning to fill her BLOSSOM coffee mug, leaving room for a splash of blood from the fresh vial in the refrigerator. Joe was tasty.
(Published on Black Ink Fiction - April, 2022)
Week-two: Jump Ropes
Spring Special: Lamb Chops
The CrossFit coach was a ballbuster. Jane hung upside-down, her knees clamped tightly to the bar, as she rapid-fired sit-ups to Hungry Like a Wolf.
Dick fiendishly twirled the rope, his jumps timed with the coach's staccato shouts, "MOVE (jump) YOUR (jump) ARSE (jump)!"
Sally cowered in the corner of the makeshift butcher-shop gym. She was no match for the butcher's extreme workout. She knew the consequences of quitting.
The butcher abruptly cut the music. "WORKOUT'S OVER! YOU TWO," pointing at the duo, "LEAVE!" he roared. "Come, little lamb. Let's get you prepared," he whispered.
See Dick and Jane run.
When an Urban Legend is Real
Jules directed the two-man delivery team to an empty corner of her bedroom. They huffed and puffed, situating the saguaro cactus just so on the patchy spot of sunlight streaming through sheer curtains.
Jules named him Spider, providing him with the utmost care, never over or under watering his sandy soil as she waited for his transformation.
Spider thrived. His arms thickened until they began to pulsate and writhe, finally cracking open. Hundreds of desert tarantulas escaped from the confines of the saguaro. Jules doctored Spider’s crevices after boxing up the scattering critters, a surprise gift for her arachnophobe ex-monster-in-law.
How to Handle a Scary Fish
Floating in Lake Macon,
in the sun I’m baking.
Water starts a-quaking;
scared, I start a-shaking.
The wind picks up.
Out of the depths, arose a leviathan.
Swiveling his head, he spied my pool-raft and then,
licked scaly lips, his face broke into a grin,
“I THINK I’LL EAT YOU!”
“Why eat me, sir, when I’m scrawny as a shrimp?
Nothing tastes worse than a terrified cringing wimp.”
I swung a mighty rock, smashing him in his sneering lip.
He bellowed, “OUCH!’ then disappeared.
Morals of the story:
Don’t let a big bully intimidate you and always carry a rock.
Lisa H. Owens
Created for April, 2022 Black Ink Fiction's 100-Word Horror Drabble Challenge
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