The Drop. (A short story by yours truly, about . . . well, I'll let you decide).

In light of all the rain we've had recently, I thought I'd be bold and share another of my short stories with you fine folk.

I hope you enjoy, and that Spring, springs shortly.

The Drop

The party of precipitation was over, and we were heading for the front.

We’d had a lot of fun in training and the party was our last hurrah. It was something every newbie had to attend before their first drop, and every newbie had to do at least one drop.

I see some familiar faces in the cloud, mostly the guys I’d been training with; I even see Bobbie and I like her. She has a nice curve, if you know what I mean?

I thought all the pep talks were over, but before we begin our descent, Big Walt shuffles up.

Now Big Walt is a legend. A complete, you name he’s done it legends. This guy’s been down the longest darkest scariest rivers in the world, over the tallest, fastest waterfalls; conquered Everest and survived the Atacama.

The moment Big Walt opens up, you shut up. You do this out of respect and because you want to hear what he’s going to say.

“Okay newbies.” Silence! No-one can hush a crowd like Old Walt. “Keep it tight out there and let’s not have any collisions, you know what happens if we collide.”

An image of the Doc showing us the aftermath of a collision in training makes me feel all woozy, but I hold it together. Then I realise what Big Walt has done. He’s taken everyone’s mind off of the drop, and suddenly it’s our turn.

“Take it easy guys,” he says as we reach detachment point. “And try to avoid the concrete; you’ll get back a lot quicker if you stick to the soft stuff.”

“OH . . . MY . . .”

The rush, the sense of freedom, the shear thrill of it all, is indescribable.

It takes a second before I clear the cloud, so I guess it’s about two thousand feet to Earth, but what a rush. No wonder this is addictive.

Big Walt flies past in a flash. I don’t know how he does it, there’s so much more to him than me. He changes shape and squeezes through gaps I’d never fit through, but that’s why he’s a legend I suppose.

There’s no way I can keep pace, so I ease up, and as I do, I see Bobbie again.

“Ninety seconds we’ll never forget,” she shouts, and I don’t disagree.

As the ground comes up to meet us, we spot two brightly coloured mackintoshes to our right, so we aim for them.

To most of the world I am nothing but a nuisance, something to shelter from, but for the two young kids stomping in the puddles that Bobbie and I are about to replenish, I’m nothing but fun.

I land with a splash, and the last thing I hear, as Bobbie and I join millions of our comrades in the waterlogged earth, is a giggle, and I can’t wait to get back up there.

The Kiss. (A short story with bite, by yours truly)

It's been a long time since I shared any of my own work on here, which was half the reason for starting this blog in the first place, so for this post I thought I'd share a piece of flash fiction that I wrote last year, which was published in Graffiti magazine.

Enjoy.

The Kiss

Fever gripped me.

I had all the symptoms. Vomiting, which I put down to the drink - Shellie, Beth and I had been clubbing the night I fell ill - I had the sweats: I got so hot one night that my step-mother phoned the doctor, I got so cold the next that I couldn’t move for all the duvets blankets and clothes piled upon me. Then, there was the pain. It had started as a dull ache but got progressively worse.
My temperature rose from a rather unassuming 100.3 to a hyperpyrexian 103.4. I was delirious, I didn’t know what day it was, who my friends were.

My mother bathed me with a flannel and a bowl of cool water, but it didn’t work, so she placed me in a cold bath, but still the fever raged.

Then, on the fifth day, everything changed.

I woke with a hunger beyond any comprehension, in more pain than I could bear. I tried to eat, I wanted to eat, but everything felt coarse, alien in my mouth. Danny, my darling brother, he even bought me my favourite cake, but I didn’t want it. All I wanted was for the pain to stop.

I pushed Danny away; I pushed him with strength untold, and when I did the truth began to unravel.

An image appeared before me, the image of a face. I was lost, trapped in its beauty – just as I had been in the club that night - and I remembered now. The touch of those lips as they pressed upon mine, the cool of a tongue as we’d started to kiss, that faint metallic taste in my mouth, and with that recollection everything fell into place.

I looked at my brother all crumpled on the floor. He’d cut his hand on the shattered plate, his blood flowed freely and the smell was intoxicating. I was completely overwhelmed, there was nothing I could do to resist; the temptation was just too great. All I wanted, needed, to satisfy the hunger, to nullify the pain, was right in front of me.

In the blink of an eye I was sucking his fingers, feasting on his life, gorging on that rich delicious nectar. A second later and I had a hold of his head, tipping it back, exposing his neck, and as much as he wanted to struggle, he couldn’t; he was powerless, lost in my beauty.

The fear and wonder on his innocent face, his last gasp for breath, the smell and taste of his warm blood on my tongue, were all so enticing.

As my cold lips caressed his neck, I heard the pounding of his heart fill the room like a drum, and then, as a shudder of dread rippled through him, I sank my teeth into his exposed flesh, and we kissed!