Recently, through twitter, I stumbled across The Deadline Dames, a site collaboratively run by authors. Each month, a picture is posted, like the one below, for a
contest. The object is to write 250 words about the picture. Here is mine. The blurb below won me a signed copy of Chicks Kick Butt, an opportunity I just couldn't pass up. Enjoy.
Devastated.
Yep, that’s what I should’ve been. That’s what anyone in their right mind would’ve been. Then again, no one has ever accused me of being sane. No, I wasn’t devastated; I was inexplicably at ease among the dilapidated V-dub, watching the encroaching blackness swirling overhead.
The humans had run for cover, safely tucked in fetal position in their concrete basements. Even those of us touched by the darkness kept out of sight.
They all said with the darkness came death. Which, again, should’ve had me squirming. Or smirking. But I knew, catching a ride on that blackness was the best set of glutes this side of Hell. Literally. That sexy incubus sent sparks off with a mere glimpse of that GQ physique.
A shiver racked me at the memory of his last visit to the island. I’d only just been touched. The pale sheen of my skin had enticed a vamp to dine. His only mistake: thinking I was a delicate flower. During the attack, I’d bitten deep on the wrist torturously holding my head at an angle. That’s how I’d become touched, drinking vamp blood. Malique had ridden the darkness that night, a dark angel rescuing me from death-by-fang, tearing the vamp from my carotid before I’d blacked out.
No. I wasn’t worried; I was determined. I’d been waiting since his disappearance. They said he’d return when the darkness spilled across the heavens.
This time I’d make sure he saw me; not a girl needing rescued. Just me.
Yep, that’s what I should’ve been. That’s what anyone in their right mind would’ve been. Then again, no one has ever accused me of being sane. No, I wasn’t devastated; I was inexplicably at ease among the dilapidated V-dub, watching the encroaching blackness swirling overhead.
The humans had run for cover, safely tucked in fetal position in their concrete basements. Even those of us touched by the darkness kept out of sight.
They all said with the darkness came death. Which, again, should’ve had me squirming. Or smirking. But I knew, catching a ride on that blackness was the best set of glutes this side of Hell. Literally. That sexy incubus sent sparks off with a mere glimpse of that GQ physique.
A shiver racked me at the memory of his last visit to the island. I’d only just been touched. The pale sheen of my skin had enticed a vamp to dine. His only mistake: thinking I was a delicate flower. During the attack, I’d bitten deep on the wrist torturously holding my head at an angle. That’s how I’d become touched, drinking vamp blood. Malique had ridden the darkness that night, a dark angel rescuing me from death-by-fang, tearing the vamp from my carotid before I’d blacked out.
No. I wasn’t worried; I was determined. I’d been waiting since his disappearance. They said he’d return when the darkness spilled across the heavens.
This time I’d make sure he saw me; not a girl needing rescued. Just me.
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