Many thanks to Anita Stewart for organizing this wonderful event.
I'm thrilled to share an excerpt from my short dark fiction story, CAPTIVITY, about a young woman who after a lightening strike is given the gift of prophecy.
Or is it a curse?
Nora's visions never bring good news.
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Bloody Valentine Horror stories!
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The foreboding ache crept up the back of Nora’s neck. Jack leaned against the counter, a glass of OJ in his hand. There were fighting again, with no end in sight.
“I don’t know what you want from me, Nora. I make you a shrink appointment and you cancel it.” He gulped his orange juice and tossed the plastic cup in the sink. “You’re so thin, your clothes hang on you. I want to help you, but if you don't want to help yourself, there’s nothing I can do.” In three strides, he stood at the sliding door, his hand on the handle. “I’m outta here.”
“Where are you going?” She squeezed her coffee cup as the pain inched its way past her jaw to her temples.
“I’m meeting someone at the studio.” He kept a stiff back to her as he answered, his voice harsh. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.” The unspoken distance between them yawned wider.
“Jack. Wait.” In five minutes she'd be writhing in agony on the floor as some new horror show ran through her head. He’d have the answers he so desperately wanted.
He gazed over his shoulder.
“Never mind,” she whispered.
Disappointment filled his cinnamon eyes and his body wilted in defeat. He walked out the door.
Nora rested her throbbing head on the kitchen table. Her mind filled with white static like a broken television screen. Then a clear picture formed.
Jack’s skin glistened as he swayed back and forth in an adulterous dance with a sultry, naked woman, their rhythm frantic as he took her from behind. His eyes a mirror of lust and guilt. Their mingled groans created a distorted ballad of ecstasy. The woman’s face was blurred, but the inked image on her thigh of a pink rose, blood dripping from the stem. seared her mind.
Nora knew that tattoo all too well.
A silent scream tore through her heart and she begged her mind to go blank. She’d seen enough and tried to stand, but collapsed to her knees. Hurt, anger and betrayal raged a battle inside her. No, it couldn’t be. Not Jack.
But her visions never lied.
On hands and knees she crawled into the bathroom. It wasn’t until her breakfast rose up the back of her throat and spilled over the cold tile floor, that her mind calmed with the thought of stone cold revenge.
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