Chuck Wendig makes me laugh, makes me think, and inspires me to try and write. Below is my little attempt at one of his Flash Fiction challenges on his Terrible Minds site.
Santiago de Flapwings turned up for dinner tonight. Unannounced of course.
Blustering away like a pompous idiot and somehow managing to charm my wife into a giggling mess.Doesn’t he realise she is my wife, not his? He lost out on any chance of that with his philandering and general not giving a crap about anyone else attitude years ago. Still he seems to turn up and try and turn my Brigitte’s pretty little blonde bob in his direction. Part of me wants to leave now as he flirts and compliments his way into a dinner invite, but that is almost like inviting him to sleep with her. I can’t have that, I will fight for my marriage. I will not give in like mum, I will not let somebody else come between us, and I sure as hell will not stand there as somebody else kisses the love of my life. So I will stay, and I will be calm, and I certainly will not be sitting here trying to decide whether the baseball bat or the meat cleaver would be a more satisfying weapon to use on him.I am the jealous type, I guess it is part of being an aggressive competitor in sport and work alike. It is only natural that this applies to my personal life.
I watch in stark horror as Brigitte leans over and whispers in his ear. Soft and sultry whilst glancing in my direction. I see Santiago’s eyes widen just slightly, and his grin. His fucking punch me in the face because I’m a Cheshire cat grin.
I start to rise, feel my fists clench at my side. I breathe out, not realising I was holding my breath. I sit and slowly relax my arms, concentrate on slowing my pulse. Anger management issues my arse, look at me. I am the king of control. Where’s that single malt?
Birgitte walks away and gets what looks to be one of our very expensive bottles of Rioja from that beautiful Bodega we visited a couple of years ago. I watch her walk slowly on the balls of her feet, she’s like a cat sometimes. The way her hips articulate is more expressive than I can explain. She opens the bottle and pours it for Santiago to taste. He understands the implied snub of my masculinity as well as I do. I don’t even get offered any at all. Instead Brigitte walks over to me and hands me a glass of Scotch, a nice little twelve year old blend from Skye.
Not a word, not even a glance as she hands me the glass. I am starting to envision all kinds of violence. All of them involve wiping that smug look off his face with some kind of bat.
As I sit there in my own little world I hear a noise that brings me back to the room. Annoyed at the interruption I look up to see what is happening. A glass is laying there gently rolling from side to side. The tiny amount of wine dregs slowly rolling around and making abstract patterns on the glass.
It is then that I notice Santiago has face-planted the table and is obviously out for the count. I look up to see Brigitte standing there grinning like a cat about to pounce. I am lost for words, stunned into an almost catatonic state. Hypnotised I watch as this gorgeous creature that I call my wife slowly slips out of the summer dress she was wearing to reveal some kind of Mesoamerican outfit.
“Remember that Inca ritual blade I bought at auction?” I could only nod.
“It is more than a blade, it is an instrument. It is sentient.” She seemed to grow.
“I have been planning this for months, a present for you, a gift for The Blade.” Her voice was becoming a strange lilting chant.
I’d always liked a bit of role-play, and this was getting me hard in a big way. The confirmation that it is me she loves, me she wants. At that moment I would have done anything and everything for her, and I did.
“Put him on the butchers block.”
“That’s it on his back”.
Like an automaton I carried out her commands, transfixed and excited as never before. I attached the chains to the loops I’d never noticed at the bottom of our custom stainless steel butchers block.
Once Santiago was securely stretched out over the block I was bid to cut off all his clothes and place them in the open hearth. Thus was his fate sealed, and my life changed forever.
I still remember that first cut, to be honest I remember all of them. I remember the taste of heart, liver, unused and useless brain. More than that though I remember the passionate and violent sex that followed the first of many meals. Soaked in blood not our own, savouring every fluid, imbibing his very essence.
The Blade is an eager teacher, a demanding master, but most of all it takes me beyond this realm. To a place where only the Ascended can hope to be. It is a place where ideas are shared, where the secrets of elongated life are swapped and shared like cards on the playground. It is my home and a place I will do whatever it takes to continue returning to.
I miss Brigitte, but The Blade can only have one master. She was chosen that I might Ascend. I hear her sensitivity for The Objects is still strong. After two hundred years their gifts to her have allowed scores more to be uncovered. None of our order may harm her, and for that I am truly pleased as I know that eventually she will be mine.