Friday Flash - Old People

“Dude, I don’t know about this…” Rick shuffled his feet, his hand unconsciously rising to wipe the snot away from his abused nose.

“What’s there to know?” Ice turned to glare at him, his light blue eyes seeming to glow with the reflected illumination of the park lights.

Rick hunched down a little, putting more of the tree they were hiding by between them. “Still… Old people?”

“Easy pickings, fool.” Ice’s stare turned cold. “You want a hit and that takes money. You got none. So you’ve got to help entertain me if you want your fix.”

Rick looked away, only too aware of the type of things Ice considered entertainment. Assaulting old people though, that’d be a new low, even for him. It was one thing to let Ice pick on him in exchange for what he needed, but this… His ran his tongue over dry lips; hands shaking at his sides, bottomless need trilling through him. “But they’re old, Ice. They’re not hurting anyone.”

His companion snorted. “That’s half the fun right there, idiot. You want the smack or not? I got others needing what I got as much or more than you. And they can pay.”

Rick swayed where he stood, the gnawing craving causing panic to shoot up his throat at the thought of not getting what he needed. He’d hate himself later but right now the person he had to take care of was himself. “No, no, man, I’m in.”

“That’s more like it.” Ice’s smile was predatory. “Now come on. Those two old farts will never know what hit them.” He hefted the bat at his side.

They stuck to the shadows as they made their way around the park toward the concrete game tables in the center. Several of the lights had been busted out by vandals or burned out and never replaced by the city, but the two old men had brought their own with them.

Rick and Ice separated.

Though it was close to summer, both old men were bent over the table wearing heavy coats, caps, and mufflers. They both had on round John Lennon glasses with dark lenses. Really dark lenses. They stared at the board for minutes at a time and then a slow, shuddering hand would clamber up and move one of the pieces.

Taking a deep breath to fortify his courage, Rick stepped out from the bushes and walked their way. “It’s really late, isn’t it?”

Both men turned ever so slowly in his direction as if having to calculate every movement. “Look, we have company, Mr. C.”

“I see that, Mr. L.”

Rick hesitated, the voices sending creepy shivers up his arms. It was like hearing old papers rustling out words. The faces turned toward him were wrinkled and dry, as old as dirt.

One of them made a beckoning gesture. “Come on closer, boy.”

Something inside Rick screamed at the suggestion. Only his ever increasing need was able to clamp over the urge to run and allowed him to walk a little nearer. “You, you shouldn’t be out here, you know? It’s not safe.”

“Why aren’t you the sweetest thing? Worried about us like that.” The smile that cracked over the face of Mr. L seemed to be laughing at him. Rick really didn’t want to be here anymore.

Keep them distracted, fool. No smack for you if you don’t.

Ice’s parting words slapped him again. His whole body shook. He’d been without for so long. He would die. He knew he would die if he didn’t get more. So he stood his ground. “Can you spare some change?”

He spotted Ice leaving his place of concealment the bat up and ready. Ice rushed forward, aiming for the head of the closest of the two men.

Rick opened his mouth to shout out a warning despite what might later happen to him -- in that one moment forgetting about the hunger inside him. Before he could say anything though, the bat was already moving toward Mr. L’s head.

Without turning around, the old man lifted his arm and caught the wood in his palm with a loud whack. The force of the blow half unsettled the old man’s glasses exposing his eyes. They were green orbs with an up and down black line. It took Rick a second before his brain started shouting the fact they weren’t human.

“I don’t know how you did that, old codger, but it’s not gonna cut it!” Ice pulled out a switchblade and stabbed at Mr. L while still holding on to the bat. In a blink, Mr. L was no longer sitting, but standing, easily avoiding the blade.

Off balance, Ice let go of the bat to take another swing with the knife. Rick tried to warn Ice this time as the end of the bat moved in a blur to poke him hard in the stomach. Before Ice could fall gagging to the concrete, Mr. C was up and grabbing him by the collar. With a flick of a wrist, Ice’s body flew up and thumped with a bone breaking crunch onto the chess table.

Ice screamed and blood gurgled from his mouth. Mr. L tossed the bat aside to the grass then reached inside Ice’s jacket. Mr. C smiled and small tentacles played with his teeth as they reached out, as if tasting the air.

“Young man, do you want this?” Mr. L held up a packet of white powder.
Rick shook his head so hard it looked like it might come off. His eyes were wide, soundless screams issuing from his mouth, a dark stain growing on his pants.

“Off you go then.”

He was gone before Mr. C finished speaking.

The two men leaned over Ice as life left him. “You should know better than to mess with old people, boy.” The tentacles from their mouths reached down to lap the blood on his face. “You won’t ever do it again.”


The End

FridayFlash - The Tree

Miaka sensed immediately that something in her kingdom had changed.

There was a new scent filtering through the house -- one that spoke of nature and outside. It sent a tingle through her furry frame, awakening primal instincts. She scurried to the corner of the hall, curious, watching her larger housemates struggle with this brown thing with green needles and that marvelous scent. They set it into a red bracket in the corner of the big room then cut away the net around it, which allowed the thing to spread out, small brown arms full of green reaching out, beckoning to her.

Boxes were brought in from the garage and set on the floor. These smelled of dust, glass, and metal.

She slinked around them and the tall outside thing, sniffing, cataloging, her small dark eyes bright.

Round, shiny items were taken out of the boxes and hanged off the arms of the tall mysterious thing. The sunlight glittered off their colorful bodies, making her dizzy and filling her with strange excitement.

Her housemates talked and worked, moving her out of the way when she got too close.

Eventually all the activity died down. Those who fed and played with her stood before the towering thing and stared with seeming pleasure.

The boxes were closed up and hidden beneath the couch or taken back to where they came from.

Miaka stared at it, too, and realized that this thing, it was for her. Must be hers. The tantalizing scents wafting from it told her so. She climbed the couch with a blur of speed then stood poised on the back studying what called to her soul. Yes, this was hers to do as she saw fit!

So moving over the top of the couch, she calculated angles and trajectories then she rushed at it, leaping through the air to land in the embracing branches.

“The ferret!”

The thing jingled and jangled as she dove deeper into the interior. Reaching the central core, she went upwards, her blood singing. She became as tall as her housemates. Taller! She was the owner of all she surveyed!

Her lofty perch began to sway.

“Miaka! Miaka, no!”

CRASH.

“Oh my God!”

She rolled as the thing bounced and ran off under a chair amidst the sudden yelling and running around by the others. Peeking out, she saw there was no need to worry. Her housemates were setting up her toy upright again.

Soon she would reign supreme once more.

#FridayFlash - Salvation

It started as a low rumble that built and built, reverberating off the walls of downtown.

Smiles peaked out at the increasing sound from dirty, scarred faces, their owners looking out toward the street from boxes and alleys, others through the open soup kitchen window that always burped out the friendly scent of baking bread.

They’d all heard the rumors. And it looked like they were about to find out if they were for real.

Corner dealers looked up like startled foxes and rushed to finish their transactions before slinking out of sight just in case. Streetwalkers stared with hope in the rumble’s direction, making sure their pimps couldn’t see their expressions.

The hum of engines roared as those approaching finally turned the corner, formed up in a double line. A Hesketh Vampire led the pack, followed by Kawasaki Ninjas, some Indian Chiefs, and even Hogs. The smell of exhaust filled the air. Glass rattled with the noise of their passing. Reflective sunglasses shone under the bright sun, even as black habits flowed behind them in the wind, their underskirts hitched up so they could ride.

As they came to a red light, the Mother Superior reached back to caress her bat sized cross in anticipation, her sawed off shotgun poking up above the seat from the other side of the machine. Both were within easy reach and ready for battle, just like she liked them.

The Mother Superior cracked her knuckles. After all the training, after all the sacrifice, the Church had finally deemed them ready. Souls would now be saved. She and her sisters were up to the task. Using whatever means necessary.

The Virgin Vixens – dispensing tough love in the name of God.

Prepare to be saved.

#FridayFlash - Prey

Her hunger tore at her guts, once more demanding its due. She ignored it, already on the prowl, seeking for the means to satisfy it.

So far the darkness had revealed nothing.

Honed senses scanned for the merest hint of prey. Deftly, she skirted the trees and other vegetation, searching, always searching.

Her pangs growing ever more acute, she finally spotted a bit of light glinting through the foliage. Like a moth drawn to a flame, she changed course, dizzy with the possibilities.

As she cleared the last of the trees, she found her endeavors hadn’t been in vain. A large clearing opened up before her showing the top of a small hill with a house, the calling light coming from its open doorway.

Sticking to the shadows, she drifted closer.

Excitement ignited inside her as she noticed a flesh being sitting on a raggedy chair on the sagging porch, staring out into the night while smoking a pipe.

Food at last!

With darting movements she made her way up the hill.

Nearing the house from the side, she peeked into the porch, studying her quarry, making sure her presence had gone unnoticed.

The balding prey puffed on his pipe oblivious.

A stray strand of wind wafted the scent of cooling sweat and pipe smoke toward her. Beneath it, barely noticeable, was the intoxicating perfume of blood. She moved a little closer, her hunger rising to a fevered pitch.

All senses on the alert for signs that her victim suspected her presence, she drifted closer still. Staring at her target, she could easily envision the life giving fluid pumping through the veins and arteries. If she’d been able to, she would have licked trembling lips in utter anticipation.

Barely stirring the air around her, she snuck up behind her victim, mesmerized by the pulsing beat of blood beneath the skin at his neck.

She moved closer and closer, her hunger and the call of the blood driving her on. Yet she purposely stretched the moment, moving forward ever so slowly, letting her anticipation increase.

As she touched the warm skin with the lightest of caresses, she felt a tingle rise through her.

No longer able to contain herself, she plunged deep into the succulent flesh. Gushing blood filled her hungering body, covering her with shivers of utter ecstasy. This was what it was about -- this was why she existed.

Trapped in the moment she didn’t notice the large presence rising over her. Too late, she felt the movement above her and tried to disengage from the pierced flesh. Pressure crushed her where she stood and sent waves of excruciating pain through her fragile being until mercifully, she could feel nothing at all.

The hunter had become the prey.


“Damn bloodsucker!”

Joe pulled his hand away from his neck, staring with disgust at the bloody smear on his callused palm. He stood up from the rocking chair, hastily wiping his hand on his coveralls.

“Myrtle, where’s that blasted can of OFF again?”