What good is a romantic story without secrets and lies? (and death, because that’s how I roll) No marriage is perfect… This story was published in Creepies 3 by WPaD and also in my Dysfictional 3 collection.

This year, Gina’s gift to her husband would be extra special. It had been years in the planning; an interminable wait list, clandestine phone calls, hasty arrangements with the help of her sister when the time finally came.

Keeping the secret from Stuart had been agonizing; usually, they told each other everything. Conveniently, he was away on business when Gina and Maxine boarded a taxi for the airport. She told him her sister was recovering from surgery and needed an extra set of hands around the house for a couple of weeks. It was a half-truth; she did stay with her sister in Boston, but it was…

As promised, here’s the sequel to the previous story, Battle of the Bean. This one will be published in WPaD’s upcoming anthology, Goin’ Extinct Too, scheduled for release in the first half of 2020.

“Are we there yet?”

“No.”

“How much farther?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m bored. Can’t we stop somewhere?”

“Will you stop harassing me? We will get there when we get there.”

“Don’t yell at the children, Dax. They’re just restless. They’ve been cooped up in this vehicle for ages. Can’t we find a place to stop so they can get some exercise?” Sky said.

“Where would you suggest?”

“I’m sure there’s someplace suitable around here. How about that place?”

“What if it’s no good?”

“There’s only one way to find out. Scan it.”

Dax entered the coordinates into the computer and read the results.

“Sounds ok, but might be some kind of tourist trap.”

“Well…

Might as well start at the beginning, with one of the first short stories I wrote, back in the 90s, before I knew the first thing about writing fiction.

Since then, this story has evolved and undergone some major rewrites.

Here is the latest edition, most recently published by WPaD Publications in their science fiction anthology, Strange Adventures in a Deviant Universe. 

THE IMMIGRANT

~*~

“We only have to look at ourselves to see how intelligent life might develop into something we wouldn’t want to meet.”

~ Stephen W. Hawking ~

~*~

Richard Simmons had apparently let himself go, and wandered into the wrong office in search of a soup kitchen. The man standing at the counter was not the real Richard Simmons, of course, but aside from his grimy, ragged appearance, he could have been the famous fitness guru’s twin.

Doppelgangers were a common sight in Phil’s line of…

Ambrose sat all huddled up in an empty horse stall. The barn was abandoned so it wasn’t likely anyone was going to put a horse in Ambrose’s hiding place any time soon.

He shivered and rubbed his arms.

There were too many close calls tonight. Too many dances with death.

Ambrose leaned his head back against the rough wood wall. He closed his eyes and took in the myriad scents.

Wood.

Leather.

Saddle oil.

Hoof trimmings.

Dirt.

Dirty hay.

Mice.

He shivered again.

Snow.

Ice.

I wish I were somewhere warm.

He pressed his forehead against his knees.

It’s Christmas Day.

I wish I were home.

He remembered the light fading from his father’s eyes.

The taste of his blood.

Claws.

Fangs.

All of the servants slashed and fallen. Their blood on his face.

On his clothes.

Staining his claws.

He shuddered. “I have no one.”

I am alone.

Completely…

Note: this conversation originally took place on the evening of Wednesday, December 21st — the 2016 Winter Solstice.

Janiss: We’re back for another evening of hot cocoa and immortal talk. Say hello, Nancy.

Nancy: (long sigh) Hello.

J: It’s the longest night of the year, and you’ve chosen to spend at least a little of it with me — thank you.

N: Free drinks, yes?

J: I pay for those.

N: Free for me, then. (sips) What topic have you chosen?

J: Christmas, of course.

N: Very appropriate. (gestures at all the decorations and shoppers, then at her themed cup) Continue.

J: (leans forward) Do you celebrate it?

N: (raises an eyebrow)

J: Come on, you can’t tell me you’ve never been swayed by the Christmas spirit. Not once in three centuries?

N: I most often choose to spend it alone not killing anyone.

J: Isn’t that how you spend…

Author Note: I’ve finally reached the last prompt! Yes! And it’s the prompt that I’ve been looking forward to writing, which makes me feel a little awful.

Prompt#5 is….Kill off one of your characters. Holidays can be extra tough the first year after someone has died. Write a story in which your characters are dealing with the loss of another character for the first time.

There are so many characters I could choose for this prompt. One in particular would be a total story spoiler, not saying who though. I’ll just say I’ll spare that particular character this time around. 😉 So….Who to choose? Hmmm. So many to choose from. So many to choose from. Hmmm.

I think I’ll go with……

****

No one ever warns you.

No one ever tells you how to prepare for the hurt.

No one ever tells you that the hurt won’t go away after…