Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy


December 9th 2017 in Microfiction

He came into the great hall, moving quickly with the bold step of a young man. He stood tall and stately, warming his hands at the hearth fire, adjusting his cuffs. “You’re looking marvelous,” she said, resting her book in her lap, noting his high color and the shine of his dark hair. “Are you courting?” He laughed, turning on his heels to face her. “Now, why on earth would I take another wife?” he said, moving over to the chair and bending down upon one knee to look into her eyes. “I need no one else.” She stroked his cheek, wiping away a drop of blood he had missed at his hairline. “Then what is this spring in your step?” she whispered. “Purpose,” he said, turning to kiss her wrist as she withdrew her hand. “New meaning.” She raised her eyebrows and smiled, patiently waiting; he looked down at the book she was reading (Byron) and nodded as if in conversation with it. “I’ve started using Facebook to pick my kills,” Dracula whispered seductively. “I am doing my part to end bad grammar.” She growled at him, drawing his face forward in both of her hands and returning his kiss with urgency.

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