Flash Fiction – written by Lee Bailes
I clutched the blood-slick-stained pillow to her face and tried to manoeuvre my weight on top, to provide more resistance. It wasn’t easy, battling her panicking hitched gasps. The blood spurted from my severed wrist stump, and drenched the soft down within, making it slippy. Recent events, that led up to this moment, flashed before my eyes. I saw those wondrous legs of hers for the last time, and cursed their wicked beauty. I cursed what they had done to us, as darkness beckoned.
We’d been enjoying our first ever holiday together, in this small accursed seaside town; both as a necessity and a chance to reconnect. I needed a change of pace and a chance to flush the demon toxins from my body. She needed to evade police custody for a prostitution rap. Island hopping seemed like the perfect distraction; especially when we could fleece a few horny middle aged tourists and move on to the next new adventure whenever we wanted. So what if it wasn’t entirely working out to plan? It wasn’t the first time that she’d driven me crazy, mad with desire, as she oiled her skin in the mornings and then batted my ardent advances away when I’d risen to the bait. Nor was it unheard of for her to pleasure a random John in front of me, to make me jealous. It was just her way of making each time with her a special reward and to keep me keen. It was her way of keeping everyone keen and manipulating every situation. Only, I could have done without it. Our stash was running low and I couldn’t think straight for the unshackled lust that now simmered within.
We’d already argued a few times that morning and were on our way to a third, when she noticed the hilariously tacky sign of a bloody chicken head and suggested we took a room at the “Red Rooster Inn”. It seemed like a perfect choice for us to continue our free holiday and for me to get a little action, without being bothered by credit card validation and CCTV cameras. So what if the owner was an eccentric old dame and her son was a grinning simpleton and a drool covered giant? The place was out of the way and quiet, just how we liked it. But not too far from the action if we needed it. There was nothing else to suggest that there was a reason for it being so very quiet.
Of course, before we even got into the room she decided to have a bit of fun with the son and tease him with glimpses of her silken thighs, as she adjusted her stocking tops on the top of the stairs. Without even a thought to his Mum he reached out to cop a feel, but those legs danced out of range with practised ease. She did it again as she reached over to test the mattress, as he entered the room behind me; having to almost bend double to clear his head below the door frame. Only this time his Mum saw what was going on and ushered him out of the doorway, with furious slaps about his head and stooping shoulders and him shrieking like a ten year old girl. That little bit of fun was what ultimately sealed our fate. This was one bit of feminine wile taken too far.
“I only wanted to see what kind of equipment a big guy like that carried.” she soothed, grinning lasciviously and as she opened those legs just for me, as I forgave their silky sins. “I mean did you see the size of his hands!”
After an uneventful meal in the empty dining room, I suddenly felt ill and had to be carried back to our room and rapidly succumbed to the creeping darkness; as I passed out to the sound of her teasing fake concern.
The next thing I knew I awoke to a spinning room. That idiot giant stood over me with a blood-stained electric circular saw roaring over my head, with a glint in his deranged eyes. I looked down to see that both of my feet had been removed at the ankle. The wounded stumps throbbed in time with the rhythm of the jetting gore. And as I reached out with one hand to stop the next swooping strike of the saw aimed at my neck, that hand was sent flying across the bed too. I looked across, disbelieving that anyone could sleep through this. The room vibrated to the sound of the bloody spinning disc. She lay in sublime repose, as if mimicking a Waterhouse beauty. I clutched my throbbing stump, unable to stop him taking her legs off at the crotch. She didn’t wake as her sleeping form was puppeteered by the tugging of the blade. I realised we must have been drugged, because no one could have slept through that.
Then the freaks’ mother entered the scene and with nary a glance at the carnage he had wrought, she chased him from the room; tusking at the mess he had made of his overalls and walls. He wasn’t leaving without a fight though, as he flung the saw down and snatched her perfect severed legs to his chest. He treasured his bloody trophies, with a kiss on their pallid freckled skin; the previous careful owner only now starting to surface from her enforced torpor.That was when I realised no one was coming to save us. No one was going to find us. This was probably not the end of the evenings ignominies. In tribute to her beauty and to save her from the horror that I was going through, I decided to spare her. I’d suffocate her, before she opened those eyes, with what remaining strength I had left. I just wish it wasn’t so damn hard to hold a pillow over a hitching body, that was clawing for breath, with one good hand and the life draining out of me…
End
