I wrote a bit of flash fiction for my critique group. We had a few picture prompts of falling leaves, owls and witches, and I came up with this short piece for Halloween. I hope you enjoy it.
The Halloween Grouch
βWhat are you doing?β I asked, glaring down at my boyfriend while he ripped open a large box with a familiar smile logo on the side.
βI bought you some Halloween decorations.β Brad looked up and grinned as though it should be obvious.
βWhat?β I dropped my bag. It landed with a heavy thud on the smooth floorboards.
βYou knowβpumpkin lights, webs, skeletons, the usual.β Brad delved deeper into the box, pulling out items covered in garish images of Jack-oβ-lanterns, skulls and bats.
I glowered at the offensive objects that littered the floor of my once pristine hallway. βItβs only the first of October.β
βI know, but we have to be prepared if weβre going to host a party on October thirty-first.β
βWhat?β My mouth dropped open.
βStop saying βwhatβ and get in the Halloween mood.β Brad stood and placed his hands on my waist. βCome on.β His fingers caressed my hips. βDonβt you just love the fall: the crisp leaves fluttering to the ground, cosy evenings snuggling on the couch.β He leaned in and kissed my forehead.
βI love those autumnal activities, but autumn and Halloween are two different things.β I wriggled out of his embrace. βWhat I donβt love are bratty kids knocking on my door demanding sweets because some American hyped up a what was originally a day to reflect upon loved ones who had passed on and call it aββ I raised my arms, bobbed my forefingers, and adopted my terrible American accent β βholiday.β
Brad frowned. βRemind me why Iβm dating an uptight Brit who loves to cling to the past like a life preserver in a storm.β A smile spread across his face. βWait, youβre a Halloween grinch, arenβt you?β
βI am not!β I sighed and marched into the kitchen. βI just donβt like people constantly knocking on my door when I would rather be left alone.β I paused before I picked up the kettle and turned on the tap. βBesides, the Grinch hates Christmas, not Halloween.β
I kept my eyes on the water as it flowed into the kettle. If there were a Halloween equivalent of The Grinch, I would win hands down. I hated having to smile and joke with the kids, pretending to like their costumes, then hand out sweetsβonly to have to leave the comfort of my overstuffed couch and do it all again five minutes later. I would rather close the curtains, shut off the lights, and snuggle into bed with a good book. Reading under the covers by torchlight, of course.
If I had known Brad was such a big fan, I would never have considered dating him. Okay, that was a little harsh, even for me.
Brad chuckled behind me. βCome on, itβll be fun.β
I rolled my eyes, then turned and froze.
Brad leaned against the doorframe with his legs crossed at the ankles. He waved a shimmering cellophane bag in the air that contained what appeared to be black velvet and web-patterned filmy fabric. βI got you a costume.β He shook the bag before him.
βI am not wearing thatβ¦ whatever it is!β
βItβs a witchβs costume. That way youβll get away with being grumpy the entire evening while the rest of us enjoy ourselves.β
βWhat the hell makes you think you can even have a party in my house without asking me?β
Brad shrugged. βI knew youβd say no.β
βOf course Iβd say no.β I dumped the kettle on its stand and flipped the switch with more force than necessary. βI donβt want strangers wandering around my house. Besides, Iβd have to talk to them, and you know I hate that!β
βCome on, even introverts come out of their caves now and again.β He stepped forward, flipped the bag around, and pointed at the image of a woman on the back. βLook, it comes with purple-and-black striped panty hose.β
βTights.β
βWhatever. You love purple.β He tossed the offending item onto the pine dining table and leaned in, placing his hands on the kitchen counter behind me. βBedsides, Iβve already invited loads of people from the office.β
βWell, you can politely rescind their invitations.β
His bottom lip jutted out, and he blinked his puppy dog eyes.
Damn him! He knew I couldnβt resist those deep brown orbs. I leaned back from the waist in a feeble attempt to create some space between us. The kettle bubbled away on the countertop behind me.
βIβm going as Dumbledore.β He whispered in my ear. βIf you dress up for me, I might let you play with my wand.β
βWell, Iβm just not Dumbledoreβs type.β I forced my arms between us and folded them across my chest.
βWhy not?β He rolled his hips against me.
βYou know Dumbledoreβs gayβright?β
He jerked backwards. βWhat?β
Loved it