Good morning! How’s your Thursday going so far? Hope the day’s turning out better for you than it is for the man in this week’s Free Fiction Thursday story, a nifty little horror tale about hot summer days, sandcastles, and revenge.
Lady of the Deep
Published by Thunder Valley Press
Copyright 2011 by Annie Reed
Cover art by the author, layout by Thunder Valley Press
A sandcastle competition. At a man-made lake where the sand had to be carted in on dump trucks because the lake used to be a rock quarry, and the last thing those beaches had was any natural sand. Greg had never heard of anything sillier, except maybe the fact that Sylvia wanted to watch the competition.
“It’s a hundred degrees out there,” Greg said. “And you want to stand around and watch grown men play in the dirt.”
The two of them were sitting in Sylvia’s battered old Honda. The parking lot at the public entrance to the lake was only half-full even though it was the second Saturday in July and the swimming was free, which meant the place should have been swarming with kids. Even little kids had sense enough to stay inside out of the sun.
“Aw, c’mon,” Sylvia said. “It’ll be fun. We have sunscreen and an umbrella and a blanket in the back, and I bet they’re selling beer and hotdogs. It’ll be just like a picnic. Didn’t you ever go on a picnic?”
Well, that wasn’t quite true, but Sylvia wouldn’t know that. They’d only been dating a few weeks. Sylvia was great in bed and easy to look at, even if she wasn’t exactly what Greg would call pretty, but she had this thing about being outdoors. She liked to just sit outside and watch the world go by. Sometimes she liked to go on walks. Like on the concrete path around the outside of this particular lake.
“You need the fresh air,” she said.
Okay, sure, he worked in a cubicle farm all day, and left on his own, he’d play video games all night, but was that any reason to make him bake in the sun on the hottest day of the year?
“And if you’ve never been on a picnic…” Sylvia let the thought hang in the air, like she wanted him to finish it. When he didn’t, she said, “Well, we really need to go on a little picnic of our own, then.” She leaned over the center console and kissed him. “You can rub sunscreen all over me.” She arched one eyebrow and kissed him again. “And I can rub sunscreen all over you.”
Greg had a vision of Sylvia naked. She did look pretty good with her clothes off. And rubbing on sunscreen was a legitimate way of touching her in public without anyone raising a fuss.
“Then you can rub me more, later,” she said, her mouth up by his ear.
“Okay,” he said, thinking — not for the first time — that men did the stupidest things just to get laid.
(read the rest of the story here)