Archive for March, 2010

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FELICITY: By K.M. McElhinny

Friday, March 26th, 2010

Felicity was shelving her books when Sam cut through the retail fog and stepped into her aisle. A shot burst through her heart, cupid had finally decided to give her a chance at love. Felicity thought he would have seen the delicious pain on her face, his slight smile told her she was mistaken.

“C-can I h-help you?” she asked as clumsy words tripped over her lips.

“No thanks.” he muttered.

The ”thanks” caught her attention -  often customers were not polite. He was different.
“O-okay…” she bit her lip, “My name is Felicity, in case you need anything else.”

He replied with a nod. Usually, she would go to a different section as to not disturb the customer, but today she wanted this one to notice her. Her heart fluttered when he picked up Tales of Ordinary Madness, the same book she was reading.

Distracted by coincidence, she tripped over the cart sending books cascading over the floor.
Felicity could feel him watching, heat speckled her cheeks as she ducked to pick the mess up. He knelt down, and she watched his strong hands work to help. Felicity knew he was the one she had been waiting for.

“I didn’t get you, did I?” she asked.

He shook his head no, and stood. Felicity waited to see if he would help her up. Then she realized that was asking too much. He’d gone above and beyond, for that she forgave him for not offering his hand. It was almost the perfect moment. With a little work, he could be trained to do it right.

“Thanks for helping…”

“It’s okay. I’ll see you around.” He said, stuffing his hands into his pockets (a nervous fidget from their budding romance?) and walked out.

I’ll see you around…his words vibrated through Felicity.

Felicity saw him almost every day. She learned his name, Samuel Millner Jr, from his credit card.

Their fingers brushed against one another that time, charging her skin with an electric tingle.
She memorized Sam’s movements. His ticks and twitches spoke to her, though they never exchanged more than customary pleasantries. Felicity felt the unspoken romance between them and bound herself to make a life with Sam.
One evening, as she was leaving, so was he. They walked through the vestibule together, Felicity saw her chance. She turned through the snowy depths of the blustering weather, ready to make her move, when she saw Sam slip on a patch of ice.
Fear for her love raced through her as his head knocked onto the pavement. She flew towards him.

“Are you okay?”

“Um…”

“We should get you to a hospital.” she said, helping him up.

“Ah, no, I’m alright.”

His obvious pain seared through Felicity’s heart.

“Company policy. If a customer gets hurt on our property, they must get checked out for further injuries.”

“I’m okay. Just a bump.” he said.

His stubbornness made her heart swell with musings to break the trait out of him.

“At least let me drive you home.” She pulled him towards her car, letting his argumentative words fall from her ears. She had to take care of him. Felicity shoved Sam into the passenger seat and started to buckle him in.

“I’m fine. Let me out.” He said struggling against her attempts.

“Enough.” Felicity didn’t want to hear anymore, his protests were taking away from her bliss. She pulled a doused cloth from her purse, and slapped it over his mouth. Sam coughed while grasping her arm for release. But her resolve was steel and soon, he was out.

Felicity climbed into the seat and drove home.

***
Tonight Felicity was going to make a special dinner. It had to be perfect. She had always heard “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” and she intended to make it happen.
An intense pain sliced through her as the knife slit the meat of her forearm. Crimson liquid seeped and trickled into the cruet with the speed of a turtle.

After weeks of glares and moans, Felicity saw a new spark of life. There was something interesting about the way Sam had looked at her yesterday. It told her, his opposition was fading. She knew by keeping his gag clean and sanitizing the friction burns on his wrists, he would come around.

Sam was hers now; his adoration would follow.

Her blood inside of him would seal their eternal love.

Anxiety coiled around her heart, Felicity bit her lip and squeezed at her flesh to expedite draining. Excitement flooded her body as she poured her love into the clear container.

Once the cruet was full, Felicity prepared the rest of the meal. She placed the salad on the tray, tilted the cruet and sprinkled it with her special dressing. She then moved the carafe over the raw slab of steak and rubbed her love into it, before placing it next to the salad. She plucked a white rose from a bouquet on her table and smeared crimson around the petal lips.
Felicity took the tray and unlocked the basement door, sliding each bolt open at a slow pace to steady her tittering fervor.

“It’s time for dinner,” she sang. Sam’s muffled, anguished cries tickled her as she descended merrily down the stairs.

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© 2010 K.M. McElhinny

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NO PETS ALLOWED: By VL Sheridan

Thursday, March 25th, 2010

A soft summer breeze floats through the bedroom as we lay entwined on the bed.  My hand lazily plays with the hair on your chest as I try to fight off sleep.  “It’s getting late” you mumble. 

“I know,” I reply, “just five more minutes.” 

Kissing my hair you pull away from me.  “We don’t have five minutes, Red.  The moon’s almost up.”  Rolling over onto my side I watch you prepare, pulling the collar out of a drawer and snapping it around your neck.

“Come on, Red, please, get dressed.  It’s almost time.”  I groan, leaving our bed, dressing, cursing under my breath.  “I hate this,” I growl as I come up to you, throwing my arms around you in a bear hug. 

“Why do I have to leave?”  You return my hug, once again planting a kiss on the top of my head. 

 “Because it’s time.  I don’t want you to see me like this.”

 I stamp my foot petulantly on the ground.  

“I hate this time of the month”.  Laughing, you turn me towards the door, affectionately swatting my ass. 

“Now you know how I feel each month when you’re on the rag.’’ 

Pushed out of the bedroom, I wander to the window overlooking the street.  A large harvest moon appears above the building across the street, illuminating the apartment, bathing me in a bright glow. 

Suddenly a low guttural moan emanates from the behind the door;   I hold my breath, listening to the sounds of the room being ransacked.  I hope the bedspread doesn’t get ripped, I think, it’s brand new.  I sit down in the pool of moonlight, waiting for the noises to subside.  After half an hour I venture towards the door, my hand trembling slightly as I grasp the door knob. 

Opening the door, I search the darkened room for you.  A small whimper catches my attention; walking over to the other side of the bed I find you lying on the floor, panting, your tongue hanging out between your canines.  I sit down next to you, pulling your head into my lap, scratching your ears and petting you as your tail begins to wag. 

“Poor boy,” I whisper, putting my face next to your snout, “do you feel up for a walk?”  You stagger to your feet, following me out to the living room where I grab your leash.  Leaving the house, we walk to the dog park, deserted at this hour.  We spend hours playing fetch, chasing each other.  I’m reminded of that phrase from the story Call of the Wild; “but especially he loved to run in the dim twilight of the summer midnights.” 

It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning when we return, exhausted, falling into bed.  You run and cry in your sleep; the first night is always the hardest. I awake the next morning to the sound of the shower running.  The smell of fresh coffee lures me out of bed; pulling on my robe I stretch and yawn on my way to the kitchen.   I pour two cups and head back towards the bedroom when there’s a knock at the door. 

 “Who is it?”

 “It’s the landlord, Mrs. London.” 

Opening the door I find a small, nervous man standing there.   Definitely not a dog person. 

“Morning Mr. Talbot, how are you?”  “I’m fine, thank you, ma’am.  I was wondering, see last night, I was coming home late from being out, and I thought I saw you out at the park, last night, with a dog.  You don’t have a dog in here, do you Mrs. London?  Because that would be against the rules.”  I try to remember where I put your leash. 

“No, we don’t have a dog, Mr. Talbot.  Do you want to come in and look?”  I step aside to let him in when you appear from the bathroom, clad only in a towel.  “Oops, sorry.” 

“Honey, the landlord thinks we have a dog.  I told him we don’t, but he can come in and look if he wants to.”  Your eyes darken slightly at this minor threat. 

“Sure, come in and look.”  I hand you your coffee and fetch your robe from the bedroom as the landlord starts his search.  The two of us stand in the hall, sipping our drinks; you casually throw you arm around me and pull me closer, kissing my ear.  The landlord finishes his search, sheepishly grinning, muttering something about our apartment smelling like a wet dog.  Closing the door behind him I realize how tense you are. 

I kiss your cheek and whisper, “Down boy, he’s gone.”  You take another sip of your coffee, walk into the bedroom and announce, “That’s it, time to get our own house.”  Following you into the room, I tease “With a big backyard?”  Ripping off your robe, you push me onto the bed, spilling my coffee in the process.  Mounting me from behind, I hear you mutter, “If you put a dog house in the back, I’ll never forgive you.”
 
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©2010 VL Sheridan
 
VL Sheridan is a writer from New Jersey whose work has appeared in The Kelsey Review, the US1 Summer Fiction collection, and on-line at Flashes In The Dark.

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