MicroHorror

A roar like an incoming tidal wave broke forth from the television before crashing over the sofa and reverberating against the walls. Martin ran in, cutting knife in one hand and a carrot in the other.

“Awww, man!” he exclaimed. “The Spurs just hit a three-pointer with fifteen seconds left to go.”

He sulked back into the narrow kitchen. He couldn’t believe he had spent the afternoon making salads, vegetarian appetizers and homemade Bloody Mary mix. Not that he had anything against food, but the Spurs and the Mavericks were on. Game six and possible elimination for the Mavs. He should be sitting on the sofa with a beer in one hand and some hot wings in the other.

“But nooooo,” he muttered to himself. The things he found himself doing for this woman.

Martin shook his head and placed the carrot back on the cutting board before glancing over at her. He admired her long, lightly tanned legs as they disappeared into her snug fitting shorts. He stroked the curve of her back and long neck with his eyes.

“How’s it coming over there?” she asked in a husky voice that bore the faintest hint of a lisp.

“Just fine, sweetness,” Martin replied. “The Spurs have erased a twelve-point lead and are on the verge of eliminating the Mavericks, but I’ve got things covered here.”

“Good,” she said, seemingly oblivious to his attempt at sarcasm. “You know I appreciate all the help with dinner.”

“Yes, dear,” he said, feeling mildly perturbed.

“You’re not nervous about meeting the family are you?” she replied.

“Of course not,” Martin lied.

In truth he had been obsessing about it for a week and a half. He certainly loved being with this woman but they had only been dating for about six months. It seemed as if things were moving a bit quickly. Not that he didn’t enjoy clubbing with her or catching a movie. And the sex, well, the sex was out of this world.

The positions she could assume, he thought, as the knife slipped and shot a carrot piece across the counter.

“Careful over there,” she said.

Martin’s face reddened as he finished slicing the carrot and grabbed for another. She was a wonderful woman. But was he ready to settle down, meet the family and buy a house?

“So when are we going to get the meat going?” he said.

“Already taken care of,” she replied, tossing the salad with some oil and spices.

“Really?” he replied. “I don’t think the broiler’s turned on.”

“That’s not a problem,” she said, turning towards him. “We like our meat on the rare side.”

“Well, that’s good,” Martin chuckled as he looked through the kitchen to the clock on the living room wall. “They’ll be here in less than an hour.”

“Yes, they will,” she replied with a hiss.

Martin started to turn as she stepped towards him. The muscles in her back bunched for a micro second and then burst forward as the vertebrae in her neck and back shot forward. Her full lips slapped wetly against his neck as two fangs broke through the roof of her mouth behind her canines. They sunk into his throat and her blood and venom pumped into his veins.

Martin struggled, eyes wide with surprise and horror as her arms and legs wrapped around him. His limbs felt heavy and his breathing grew shallow. He tried to form words but couldn’t focus. Her eyes bored into him, hypnotically, as she lowered his paralyzed form to the ground. A single tear escaped his unblinking eye as his brain processed its final conscious image.

Two beautifully shaped almond eyes with long dark lashes and slit, black irises.

• Copyright: © 2008 Kevin M. White