by Amrita Valan
Bloody Mary
She waited in the honeymoon suite for his discreet knock on the door, which meant he had
seen off the last of their guests.
The quiet tap! Tap! Tap! Rose in a crescendo as she opened the door, blushing. The hallway
was empty, as she peered outside, a cold draft tickled her spine. Her groom was standing, or
rather hovering on the window ledge, about to step in. Was he wearing lipstick? Her heart
crumpled like a dead animal as he leapt lightly in, wiping off crimson drool dribbling
down his chin.
“Alone at last!”, white fangs glittering he snarled.
About the author
Amrita Valan is a writer from India and is passionate about exploring
life, both dark and sunny side up. If she didn't write she would have
wanted to be sent on secret missions involving travel. She had been
published in Spillwords, ImpSpire and Cafe Dissensus among other zines.
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