Wednesday, July 11, 2012


“Seth Boudreaux.” The words were formal, weighted.

Compulsion failed. “That’s not my name, True or otherwise.”

“Clever. Your mother was my finest protégé.”

“She’s dead.” I didn’t admit culpability.

The thing flicked its fingers and ripped open Nate’s chest. “I could pluck his heart like a cherry pit.”

I slapped my hand over the wound, healing it.

“Don’t DO that!” Nate rocked back, pulled his gun, and shot the monster.

I might have been next, but the thing rose. “You will listen, boy, or you will mourn.”

Nate fell, vomiting blood. “Don’t,” he rasped.

But he knew I had to.


1 comment:

  1. Well done! I'm still peeping throught my fingers at these prompts; you've well and truly nabbed them so smoothly I can't remember what they are.