A Valentine's Delivery

Bad me! I forgot about the last #DearValentie #BlogChallenge, so I am posting this a day late.

A Valentine’s Delivery

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

Carol lay in the back seat of the car, her legs spread wide while David looked between them at the crowning head.  Pain coursed through her back, the contraction hitting her hard. ”Get this thing out of me!”  Her voice echoed through the countryside, but no one was near enough to hear, except for David, who wished he was anyplace but here at the moment. Hell, it wasn’t even his kid. The slut had slept with everyone in town. Still, it was Valentine’s Day and she had been the only one willing to go out with him after the rumors Jayne had started.

David checked the bars of his cell phone again. Damn, still no reception.

“Carol, please calm down, I’m trying. I mean, they did this themselves in pioneer days, so the baby should just come out.”

Carole bit back a scream and growled, “Get. It. Out. Of. Me.”

David looked again at the area he had been hoping to get a piece of later that night.  Should he be concerned that he found her swollen abdomen sexy?  The top of the head was visible, but something seemed to be wrong. He thought maybe it was stuck.

“Your dad’s a doctor! You have to know something!”

“Hold on a minute.” David went around to the trunk. Opening it, he pulled out his dad’s emergency bag. It was filled with medical supplies and surgical equipment.  “You never know when it might come in handy,” his dad had said.

 David returned to the back seat.  “Carole, the baby is stuck.  I’m going to have to cut it out.”

“What? David…No!”

Closing his eyes, David felt himself harden. This was going to be better than when he gutted Jayne’s dog. Maybe he would still get a piece of the bitch after all.

 Word Count: 300

 

Copyright© 2012 Lisa McCourt Hollar

The Sins of His Past

The Sins of His Past

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

Frank Lombardo fingered the gun hidden deep in the pocket of his coat. The wind howled, and through it he heard Belinda’s voice whispering to him from the boardwalk.

“Frank…”

It was just his imagination. There was no one at the fairgrounds besides himself and the ghosts that haunted his dreams. The place had long been abandoned, ever since the fire he’d been responsible for all those years ago.

“It’s your fault,” Belinda said, accusing him from the grave.

“I’m sorry,” Frank sobbed. “I didn’t mean it. I loved you.”

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t have killed me. You wouldn’t have killed us. You were jealous.”

The faces of those who had worked for him flashed before his eyes. The fairgrounds had been the permanent home of his circus. It had been Valentine’s Day. Belinda had looked so lovely in her red dress. He’d stopped to see her before she went on.

Then the screams of people trapped inside the gates, echoed down the boardwalk.

Were they coming for him at long last?

“Join me,” Belinda whispered, her voice brushing his ear like a cold hand.

Frank touched the gun again. Every Valentine’s Day for the last ten years, he’d thought about ending his life.

“Join us.”

He turned to leave.

They were behind him.

Belinda in her red dress. Roger in his tuxedo.

The perfect pair.

Twins. Conjoined.

He loved her, but he hated Roger, because Roger had always been closer to Belinda than Frank ever could be.

“I didn’t want you to die,” Frank said.

“Just my brother,” she replied, her eyes heavy with sorrow.

“I thought… if I could burn him off you…”

The idea had been insane.

She had screamed when he doused one half of her in gasoline.

Now Frank screamed too, the gun useless in his trembling hand, offering no protection from his sins.