Today’s Friday Fiction is courtesy of microcosmsfic.com. 300 word short story using the following elements.
Undercover Cop, setting: Field, and genre: Memoir.
Our feet swished across the field like nuns shooshing delinquents at the back of a church. In the distance we could hear a thump thump thump of drums backing the hollowed wails of a banshee with a cold. Darkness had enveloped Summerset Field in a cloak unlit by the non-existent sphere in the sky, and a chill rose from the earth snaking up along my spine.
“Are you sure the intel is correct. They smell like regular folk to me.” my partner grunted, kicking something across the field that drenched his shoes in a rancid metallic scent “Crap.”
I looked down at the ground, hoping to avoid the same fate.
“Drugs, sex and rock ‘n roll. Perfect camouflage for deaders.”
“We’re deaders, and you don’t see me headbanging to teen-aged boys in skinny jeans pretending they know what rock ‘n roll is.”
“Unless your daughter is in the room.” I give him a grin but his eyes narrow with his mouth. I raise my hands. I’m the only one who knows he has a human daughter – how he pulled that off is a mystery no one has been able to decipher. Yet anyway.
“Do you even know who we’re looking for?”
“He’s an ancient vamp. Goes by the name Memoir.” I snort, “Used to be a historian and scribe back when Barnabas and Paul were trading blows in Antioch.”
“An Elder then.”
“One of the few remaining.”
We continued in silence, moving close enough to flit amongst sprawled bodies wafting enough fumes to emulate a brewery. Eventually the bodies were upright and swaying like grass stalks in the wind, music pounding in our ears. My spine tingled again as we drew closer. He was here alright. More than just a detective’s intuition. He was my brother after all.
I was reading a vampire book so… you know. Vampires. You should go read the Book Review of Gloryhill. It’s perfect.
Also, quick update: September is Spring Death month, in short,a month of blossoming death and flowery cadavers. Happy Friday!