MICROFICTION — HORROR — GHOST
The Night A Sexy Specter Shook Me To The Bones
A steamy story of spooky passion.
I’d spent six days on the road, sleeping in the back of my rig, but tonight I pulled into a parking lot of a bed and breakfast with a sign that said “The Weeping Widow”.
What the hell?
A bed was a bed.
I was dead tired.
If there was a widow, maybe I’d get lucky.
I awoke to a chill sneaking through my bones.
I stared up at a pair of haunting November-gray eyes.
That’s all I saw, those floating gray eyes, like a pair of soap bubbles.
Then her face materialized above me. Long filaments of shimmering scarlet smoked around her features.
Why the hell hadn’t I stayed in my truck?
“I’m cold,” she said. “Hold me tight.”
My manhood stiffened involuntarily.
I reached out to embrace her.
She felt like an armful of smoke and pipedreams.
At the same damn time, I felt the heat of her smoldering passion roaring through the bones of my body.
We made thunder that night and the pair of us roared like lions. I was the King of all things and I’d never felt like this before.
I’d known a lot of women along the way, but she took the cake, the bread truck, and the whole goddamn bakery.
In the morning I woke up and headed for the bathroom shower. My bones were buzzing like I had gargled a hive full of yodeling African killer bees.
I felt strange.
Brittle.
I turned the water on. As it hit me I shattered like an icicle falling on concrete.
I looked up and I could see that ghostly bitch grinning down at me and I guessed that I was going to stay a lot longer than the night I’d planned on.
I’d got lucky, all right.
Too bad it was bad luck.