Word count: 55
I watch you tuck into the lasagne noisily. It dribbles down your chin. You chew away. Mmm, you say approvingly. I don’t think you’d want to know the recipe. You scrape the bottom of the pan and empty it onto your plate. The dog will starve tonight. I can only feed one of you. Sadly.
I hunt every last one of them. It’s a surprise attack. I strike on a Tuesday morning. Not on a Sunday when they’d have expected me and gone into hiding. I watch their blood spill and feel proud. It’s a victory for humanity. My predatory instincts are on a high today. Another down. Bloody nits!
You’ve always hated them. So I don’t tell you where we’re going. You walk ahead of me. Your legs barely supporting your weight. You stop to catch your breath. You bump into trees. You don’t hear me calling out. I carry you inside. I lay you down on the table. It’ll be over soon. Sorry.
These are a few of my entries to the 55-word flash fiction contest, part of the Kala Ghoda Art Festival. Detail here if you wish to enter.