Written by Joan Reginaldo
Voting is closed as of 22 February 2013! Thank you all for participating in our Mystery Author Bloody Valentine Flash Fiction event!
Baste meat. Intervals of 15 minutes for 3 hours
For desired doneness: Rare.
Tic-tic-tic-tic-ding!
Complete.
Remove from oven. Allow “rest” for fifteen minutes.
China on table. White with red piping.
Fork, 1.5 inches from edge of plate. Steak knife, 1.74 inches.
Imported Italian crystal goblet. Chianti warmed
To exactly room temperature. Complete.
Wait. Wait. Wait…
“This is perfect,” she says.
Embrace for 5.8 seconds. Disengage.
Present 12 roses in crinkling cellophane wrapper.
She crinkles her nose. “Too much,” she says.
“Valentine’s Day,” I say.
“Of course it is,” she says.
She sits and eats three bites,
Roses warming to exactly room temperature.
Wait. Wait. Wait…
“Love me,” she says.
“Of course I do,” I say. And I do.
Start.
Pull off her scarf
Slowly like in that movie that makes her cry.
Unbutton her blouse while kissing. 2.33 seconds between each button.
Unzip the back zipper of her skirt and
Tug her towards the bedroom.
“Here,” she says. “The table. Make a meal of me.”
She pushes the plate off the table. Goblet follows.
Clatter-crash!
Fork clanks on the wooden planks.
I lay her down gently but her brow furrows
0.3 millimeters deep. Corners of her lips turn down
1.5 millimeters west.
“Not right?” I say.
“Keep going,” she says.
Kiss for 2 minutes, 30 seconds.
“Slap me,” she says.
“I can’t,” I say.
“Choke me,” she says.
“I can’t.”
“Keep going then,” she says.
I slide my fingers into her. 2 degrees warmer than body temperature.
“Slowly?” I say.
“Harder,” she says.
I can’t.
“It’s fine,” she says.
7 minutes 15 seconds.
Complete.
Her pulse is fast but not fast enough,
Breathing rate fast, but not fast enough.
Warning. Warning. Warning.
She will want her bath.
“Stay still,” she whispers, stroking my cheek.
She has never done that before.
“Different?” I say.
“Stay still,” she orders.
Warning. Warning. Warning.
Heat pierces my head and surges through my system.
The room flickers as I grow still.
Her face fades as her smile grows.
She shows me her fingers, black with oil,
Black with my blood, and my hair webbed
Over the knife.
“Such a great cook,” she says. “I would
Have liked to keep you.”
“Keep me,” I say.
She nods. “Economize. I’ll keep
Your tits. And your feet. We wear the same size shoes.”
“Know me?” I say.
She giggles and pulls me to her chest.
The room dims to darkness.
“New you,” she whispers. “A better you. One that
Has realistic red blood, programmed to give
12 levels of pain. Multiple genitalia accessories
And sockets. Sub-Dom matrices.
An upgrade.”
“Replacement?” I say.
“It’s not you, it’s me,” she says.
“I need something you can’t give.”
“Love you,” I say.
Begin Termination Program.
Error: Third Law — Override.
Error: Third Law — Override.
Error: Third Law — Over–
“And that,” she says. “I think I’ll keep that.”
Pause Termination Program. Cancel.
Wait. Wait. Wait…
