#SwiftFicFriday W89 – Vote!

#SwiftFicFriday W89 – Vote!

Another prompt, another round of great stories to choose from. Check the stories out below and vote for your favorite!

But she’s a vampire.

“And you’re a human. You think that’s the best thing to be out there? How many monsters have you tracked down and arrested that were fully human? We’re not the best species, son, and you’ve known it for years. So your lady is on a liquid diet, big deal. In the time that you’ve known her, has she hurt anyone?”

Jamison sat with the thought for a while. Had Felicia hurt anyone? Not that he saw. And there was no trail of bodies leading straight to Eve’s Paradise. Of course, she’d never endanger Lady Aislynn with her behavior – she worshipped the ground Aislynn walked on.

I’ve never asked Her.

“Why do you think that is, Whiskey? And if she answers you, are you gonna be ready to hear what she says without jumpin’ to conclusions?”

He let the question bounce around inside for a while, listening to the echoes of emotions evoked from his old captain’s words. Fear still swirled around the answers, but it wasn’t as sharp, and he recognized it came from others’ preconceived notions of vampirism. Felicia always treated him like a cherished partner, someone to be cared for and protected. She put his needs before Her own, and never endangered him. Nor did She hound him about the danger in his job. She was perfect for him, supportive without smothering him.

She balanced him, give him release from the stresses of his job, and stood strong against the tides of fear and pain to protect him. Felicia was his everything, and to throw Her away over fear represented an epic fail on his part.

She’s my Domme and my heart. I need Her to be whole.

The inner voice grunted with satisfaction. “Now you’re gettin’ it.”

294 words, by Siobhan Muir (@SiobhanMuir)


I met him that one and only time in the Grilled to the Gills Public House in Winchester City. Late July 2021. I had been on the road for two days, was exhausted from wandering in circles, just reuniting with the freedom of travel, the temporary relief from Covid confinement, and needed a stopover somewhere. The Hotel clerk recommended the Pub as a safe place for strangers to wet their whistle and maybe cut loose.

I wasn’t much for cutting loose but enjoyed being near those who could.

When I entered, the smell of sweat and beer was intoxicating. People were clustered like ants, maskless, free, and feeling their oats. I admit I was slightly overtaken by virus heebie-jeebies and thought to back out and isolate. Off against a far wall, I saw him, alone, safely distanced, and masked.

I donned mine and snaked my way through the masses to an empty table next to his.

The din was massive, but I gave him a wave as if to say we were companions in the chaos. He hailed me over to the empty chair at his table.

“Lloyd,” he said.

“Steve,” I replied.


“Passing through.”

“We’re the only two.”

“I noticed. Then you believe…?”

“That it isn’t over? You’re darn tootin’. This Virus hasn’t even taken a day off. Growin’ like stink.”

“Yet here you are?”

“Taking a risk, I know. Thought I would take one last look at local humanity before it all blows up.”

My beer came, I ordered a second round. We sat there, nodding in our bleak wisdom, and then parted.

The next day, I began the journey home. I’d had my fill of optimism, of travel. Lloyd had been a godsend, reaffirming the horror that I knew awaited.

295 words, by Bill Engleson (@billmelaterplea)

Slick green slime pumped through the pipes. It caught on a screen. Water flowed through and around it. Contaminants stuck in the slime and increased its mass.

Rocks and other hard particles poked and pinched. The slime shuddered and expelled them. Other matter, organic matter, dissolved inside the slime. It felt warm and its mass increased again.

The slime shuddered and pulled itself over the screen, out of the water, and onto the access platform. It felt cool and stopped moving.

“Aw come on! How the heck did this get here?” something poked the slime. “Man, that’s nasty.”

Wood. The slime pulled the poking thing in and began dissolving it. It felt warm again and directed its growth up the stick where it was rewarded with a new warm thing with a meaty taste.

“Argh! Holy shit! It burns!”

The meaty thing pulled away. The slime held on to the meaty thing and released the ground. The big meaty thing fell over and the slime landed on top of it. The big meaty thing smelled salty with a little sour and was loud and delicious.

With effort, the slime was able to burn through even the inorganic elements of the person’s clothing. The person stopped making noise. Stopped moving. But there was plenty left to eat. The slime grew.

The slime formed up into a pseudopod over the empty remains of the man’s clothing. It felt the night wind. It looked around and saw buildings with lights. It was hungry for people.

The slime flowed toward the closest building.

259 words, by David A Ludwig (@DavidALudwig)

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