MicroHorror

“C’mon,” he urged, “try it, just once, you might like it.” Her eyes met his. She trusted him. Ten days since they had met and already she trusted him.

“Okay, then…”

He laughed, took her hand and under a curved new moon they entered the building giggling together.

“Ugh! How did I let you persuade me?” She clung to him, eyes clenched tight. He stroked her hair. On screen, the beast howled and she shrank further into him.

“I just don’t do horror,” she shivered on the walk home. He tightened his arm around her shoulders and rubbed her warm.

“Sorry,” he said, and he thought he might be. It had been a good plan, his way of warning her.

When they kissed he felt the lunar pull. Only fourteen or fifteen days before the change, before he would cry “Run!” Before he would give chase and taste her properly.