Just a quick 100-word story this week.
The prompt is from The Prediction:
100 words maximum, excluding the title, of flash fiction or poetry using all of the three words above (‘canvas’, ‘feint’, and ‘mate’) in the genres of horror, fantasy or science fiction.
It was a feint. A ruse. A trick, a trap, a deception.
I know my synonyms.
But that’s just it. It didn’t matter.
My silver tongue usually gets me out of these things. It’s the mate to my cunning. The brush with which I paint on the canvas of life.
She plucked out every bristle with two words.
“For me?” she asked.
For her, with that smile and pleading eyes. Her sweet voice. Her damnable innocent charm.
She is a siren, and I rammed my ship into the rocks in answer to her call.