Compulsive Wheedling

I don’t notice the difference in beguiling flattery coming from your mouth right off. You always turn to wheedling me when you want something. I’ve learned to shut down the listening part of my brain when you get going.  But tonight, the shadows have grown long across the prairie, yet still you haven’t given up asking. I can’t imagine you’d want to visit the corner store with your friends this bad.

Spooktober 2022 Day 27: Teeth

Life for everyone changed forever the day my teeth broke your skin. 

But it was bite, or be bitten. 

And your bite had the power to make me one of you. A rotting, shambling corpse. Someone else’s teeth had already transmitted a curse to you. A curse which drove you to pay it forward when you’d cornered me in that storage shed.

Spooktober 2022 Day 25: Storm

Your storm windows stood no chance of protecting you, even though you’d had them specially made from steel. Readying for the storm you knew would come. 

I watched you install them. And you felt me watching, I know. You prepared and I lurked. Waiting for atmospheric turbulence. Wind shear. Moisture. 

Cold air aloft.