WEEK 50: Two can play this game

Prompted by: Shades_of_kb

The crazy author says: I’m gonna try killing this story off in 2 more weeks cuz it’ll be exactly 52 weeks and my OCD is all like, “Ann, you gotta end the 1-year anniversary of writing flash fiction with a complete storyline for no good reason.” Yeahhh…

Shit.

I’m being tortured.

Some sick bastard is going to town on the back of my skull with a sledgehammer. I know I’m dying. My brain is bleeding profusely. Hemorrhaging uncontrollably. The pressure builds and builds with each subsequent impact…

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WEEK 49: Watch him die

Prompted by: Matthew Williams

The crazy author says: I brutally murdered the unexplained insta-something-or-other. Tee hee.

A tremor runs through my body as rough, possessive hands tunnel into my hair.

He growls against my mouth and suddenly…

Holy shit.

I’m being consumed.

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WEEK 48: If you only knew

Prompted by: Jane Blythe

The crazy author says: Okay, this is waaay more insta-lust/attraction/something-or-other than I typically allow my characters but what the hey? Unexplained feelings FTW haha!

“Walk the line, hm?”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“If you only knew.”

I tiptoe my fingers along the edge of his belt. “Not knowing is half the fun.”

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WEEK 47: Walk the line

 Prompted by: Ember-Raine Winters

The crazy author confesses: I went back and deleted the last line from last week so this week would make more sense but anyhoo…

“There’s something you need to know.”

“Your name?” I tease.

“No,” his lips graze my neck, “something else.”

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WEEK 46: The bad boy you just can’t forget

Prompted by: Sandra Portillo

The crazy author says: No idea where I’m going with this but we’re going, going, gone…

As the low hum of his invite lulls me further into submission, I struggle to stay afloat, desperate to keep my head above water. Before I get sucked under and drown, I need him to, “Tell me your name first.”

“Tech,” he answers and squeezes me tighter, making my ribs creak. “Yours?”

“Julia.”

“Beautiful.”

I resist the urge to gasp for air.

His thumb presses against my mouth and tugs downward, parting my lips. The simple action sets each cell on fire, strips every nerve completely raw, extracting a moan from my throat. I can’t stop it. I don’t even try. The anticipation is unbearable. I know he’s about to kiss me…

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WEEK 45: Don’t apologize

Prompted by: Murlene Crowley

The crazy author says: Perhaps my edge has returned a bit. Still much, muuuch duller than Slim & Izzy though…

I battle my way through the sea of sticky, sweaty bodies and locate a free piece of real estate on the disgusting dance floor before I turn around and realize I lost him.

Of course.

Stupid.

Cringing, I’m about to make my way back toward the bar when my legs are suddenly taken out from under me.

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WEEK 44: Kill me now

Prompted by: Tiara Giles

The crazy author says: I’ve lost my edge, y’all. I’ve gone cute and sappy and sweet like an overdose of Cadbury Mini Eggs (which I freakin’ luuurve, btw!)

When he doesn’t reply, I give Goldilocks a second tug before releasing the sun-spun strands and sliding off my stool. As my spiked stilettos hit the ground, he still hasn’t moved a muscle. Which is a real shame since he has plenty to choose from.

“I’m leaving,” I say. “Are you coming with?”

He appears to have turned to stone. In fact, I’m convinced he’s stopped breathing entirely. Makes perfect sense. Gargoyles don’t tend to breathe while in stone form.

Okay, maybe he’s not rock-solid everywhere.

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