A bit of fun this week, qualifying for my new criteria for Friday Flash on the grounds it’s damn near impossible to sell this type of story due to the over-used nature of the sub-genre. Candy floss fiction. Black, naturally.

By Neil Beynon

As long as he lived he could never forget the smell of the street that night, the stench of piss wrapping itself around the diesel of the passing cars as they zipped past. He gripped the knife in his hand tight, his gut twisting like a caged cat and glanced around for a more substantial weapon. In the mouth of the alley Ceridwen stood unmoving. She blocked the path to the street.

“Why do you raise your knife?”

He stepped back.

“Why do you attack me?” he replied. “After what I did.”

“It is because of that I am here.”

He blinked. “You asked me to do it. The things I’ve done to…Gods, I would never have…”

“I wanted you to do it, but now I have a different use for you.”

She stepped towards him.

“No, I don’t want to.”

“Pity, but it doesn’t change anything. I have been noticed and so I must leave.”

“Then go,” he sobbed, snot and tears hanging from him like chains.

“I cannot, I need the energy.”

She took another step.

“I trusted you,” he said. “I trusted you to look after me.”

“And I shall.”

He wiped his face with his sleeve. He met her eyes for a moment, he felt numbness settle on him like snow and for a moment there was acceptance. He nodded but did not let go of the knife.

He leapt forward in sprint and she leapt forward in hunger.

They struck with a meaty thump that turned him through one hundred and eighty degrees and dumped him on his back on the pavement, his knife cluttering far away from him. She lifted him to his feet before he could recover the air that had been pushed from his lungs.

“No more talking,” she said as she took him.

“I trusted…” he moaned as the moon slid behind the clouds and the alley fell dark

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