Happy Thursday! As any college student knows, Thirsty Thursdays are a day to live it up and leave regretting your life choices for tomorrow, so today’s Gluttony Day word is…
Hedonist: a person who dedicates his or her life completely to the pursuit of pleasure.
Mac held up a brownie, winked at Tammy, and took a bite. She still refused to try edibles, despite her overbearing sweet tooth. It’s why everyone called her Tape Worm Tammy—no matter what she ate, she stayed bone thin.
This thought began to bother him. It bothered him as much as the sudden high. Pot doesn’t come on this strong.
Tammy wriggled, crawling out of her skin, a mass of worms disguised in a sexy flesh suit. They chortled, their infinite squirming selves having added a few special ingredients to his brownie recipe, preparing their meal for the feast.
Hope you liked this drabble! If you did, be sure to check out my latest release, These Walls Don’t Talk, They Scream. It’s a novel, not a drabble, mind you.
If you’re a writer, you might also consider submitting to the sci-fi/horror anthology I’ll be editing for Blood Bound Books, titled Crash Code.
Either way, thanks for stopping by. Talk to you soon!
Here a free drabble for you! “Temptation,” by me.
I caught my wife eating the cat. I wanted to make a joke, but she wouldn’t have taken it well. Marriage is hard enough when you’re not intentionally pissing off the wife by calling her a lesbian.
“Don’t tell Casey.” Her only request. Blood staining her mouth from a fresh kill, a new shade of lipstick, she kept our daughter in mind. Laura loved her enough to want to protect her from this, just not enough to protect the pet.
“Don’t worry. I won’t.” I wasn’t mad at her. How could I blame her?
I’d just finished eating our daughter.
Here’s a free drabble for you! Be careful at the gym, folks. Pride doesn’t build muscles…
He loved bulking more than anything. Screw those pretty boys with the flat abs and chiseled jaws, because Einar had his ancestors’ body, born from a thousand years of Viking raids. Thick with muscle, empowered by history, he gripped the barbell, ready to bench a weight that bent the metal.
One. His arms shook a little.
Two. He kept his bloodshot eyes on the ceiling.
Three. A little more shaking. The plates rattled.
Four. Tension built in his neck. He shook his head, refusing a spotter.
Five. His right arm snapped. He never got a chance to scream.
Here’s a free drabble for you, but I’ll give you this trigger warning upfront: if you’re a college student currently working on final papers, skip this. Just go somewhere else, finish your homework, then, I dunno, play hopscotch or something innocent and happy.
Danny screamed. The whole library turned to look, but he wouldn’t stop. Even as the librarian issued a trademarked, hundred-decible shush, he wouldn’t, couldn’t cut the noise. He dug his fingers down his face, drawing blood from trenches that soldiers might’ve hidden in.
We had two days left in the semester—two days left to turn in all our work, so nobody gave a shit why he was screaming.
“Shut up, asshole!” Somebody yelled.
He raced from the room. His screaming didn’t stop until he threw himself from the roof.
His computer screen read. Hard drive error—‘Thesis.docx’ corrupted. Deleting…
Here’s a free drabble for you based on a pretty damn 12popular fashion faux pas. Hope you enjoy my story “Eyebrows.”
I thought she drew ‘em on thick because she’s an idiot.
You should’ve seen them! Big as a finger, even at the ends, so huge and dark you’d think a cat left a piece of its tail on her.
My buddies and I joked about this all the time. My girl took that teasing like a champ—just the shit a classy chick puts up with, dating a mess like me.
Last night, I peeked through the bathroom door. Saw her wipe ‘em off. Saw the wires hiding underneath. She caught me looking.
Her eyes turned a bright blood red.
Here’s a free drabble for you!
The horse died during the rockslide. None of us did.
Lord Hammersmith had gone out of his way to purchase a luxury carriage, one with many small windows, so we were sprayed with glass as boulders pushed us along the road, pinning our cabin to a tree. Both doors blocked, and no window large enough for an arm to fit through, much less a man, meant we’d been festering for two days.
“Who do we eat first?” Lady White said.
“We’re civilized,” Lord Hammersmith shook his head. “We only eat the poor.”
He laughed quite heartily, and never breathed again.
…I’m apparently on a cannibalism kick these days. Don’t read too much into that.
I’ve got a new page up for all things related to Visions from the Veil, so be sure to check it out for giveaway opportunities and more!
via Visions from the Veil