It’s the Eve of Halloween, which is All Hallow’s Eve. Time for monsters and ghoulies and things that go bump in the night. It’s also Only’s birthday. She was always our little Halloween witch. Now she’s an amazing and talented woman. As it’s also Wednesday, that means it’s time for #1lineWed and what better theme could there be today than **MONSTER**. Once again, I dug into the archive’s and came across one of those “orphan” snippets. I don’t know about other author’s but I get “drive-by” stories and/or characters. This one is fairly self-explanatory and will get a full treatment someday.
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My roommate planted her butt on the corner of my grandmother’s dressing table, blocking my reflection in the huge, round mirror. This vanity was the only thing I had from my old life—the one I’d bolted from.
“You look like shit.” Bethie, blunt as always. “Those bags under your eyes are packed for a world cruise.”
“Gee, thanks,” I muttered. I dabbed on concealer, realized that it gave me ghost eyes so I wiped the makeup off. Nothing was going to help. Ignoring Bethie, I grabbed a brush and pulled it through my hair one more time before huffing out a sigh. “Didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Yeah, and?”
Okay, I hadn’t slept well in months. Between my old life and my new life and…well…stuff. I glanced up to find Bethie watching me, worry in her eyes.
“I had that dream again.” I admitted.
Bethie’s eyes now lit with interest. “The one with the sexy guy?”
“No, the one where the guy I’ve never seen before turns into a freaking monster with blood dripping from his teeth and claws.”
She rolled her eyes. “But it starts out with him as a sexy guy. That’s your subconscious telling you that you’re afraid not only of commitment but men as well.” The voice of experience, allegedly. Bethie was a clinical psychologist.
My turn for the eye roll. What I didn’t tell her was that the dream? It felt more like the replay of a memory than some freaky message from my subconscious. Besides, I didn’t need my subconscious to remind me of my stance regarding men.
“A night out will do you good.”
No it wouldn’t. Going would be easier in the long run than arguing with Bethie. I knew she could read my expression and she geared up for a fight.
*
Though I didn’t want to go, Bethie dragged me out to the club anyway. I was two beers down and pretty much ignoring everything but the music. It was a good song. An oldie that made me sway to the music and sing along with the chorus. Dobie Gray’s “Drift Away.” I had the beat, boys. My shoulder bumped something solid. And warm. I looked up. And stopped breathing. He was standing there, right in front of me. The man from my dreams.
“Let’s dance.”
“Are you going to eat me?” I blurted it out.
Something feral flashed in his eyes, something I recognized on a soul-deep level. “Dance now, eat later.”
Well didn’t that sound…enticing. I shivered like a troop of teenagers stomped across my grave. I’d never claimed to be psychic but I knew this man. The sense of “Déjà vu all over again” washed over me. Dancing with him seemed like the best idea ever. Who was I to argue with fate?
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So that’s my “monster under the bed.” Do you have any monster words to share?
Silver James 
Ooo, fun. I can’t wait to find out if she really does know him or it’s actually just a feeling. Just promise you’ll never call me Bethie, k? I always hated that name. ;o)
Monster words… Since I’m re-reading that forgotten fantasy I wrote – which has quite a few monsters, btw – I thought I’d drop a slice of it again today.
Igrid shivered.
Fenwyn caught the movement out of the corner of her eye, but didn’t raise her face. On her lap sat the book of monsters Captain Vere had shown to Aryl. Between her self-appointed duty of watching her former friend, and her education on the practice field, she needed to concentrate on learning from the books in whatever spare time she could find.
The day before, they’d dropped the silence from the room. Igrid had been calm. Her outbursts had been less frequent and showed less venom. The new Captain hoped it was a sign of good faith. Of course, she’d also hoped to gain the girl’s confidence before now.
Fenwyn shook head and rubbed her eyes. Nothing they’d done seemed to make any difference. Whatever secrets Igrid held, she was keeping to herself.
“It’s coming,” the girl whispered from her side of the room. They’d shown good faith by allowing Igrid to be heard, but no one was stupid enough to believe she wasn’t still capable of harm. Until that time, she was safely held away from the door, the window, and any contact with other people.
“What?”
“It’s coming.”
“I heard that part. What’s coming?”
Igrid set to giggling, but Fenwyn heard no humor in the sound. It grated along her nerves like the squeal of her bedroom door back home. That was a sound that never bore good tidings for her.
YES! Definitely not middle grade or even, maybe, YA. I ❤ dark fantasy so go for it!