Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 31-05-2013
Cynthia let herself into the zoo clinic, setting the box down carefully and looking to verify that they were alone. She turned on the tropical incubator and slipped into her lab coat. She was surprisingly nervous. “Gawd, Cindy,” she chided herself, “it’s not like you haven’t done this before.” In a lifelong effort to find her handsome prince, Dr Cynthia Ward had kissed over a thousand species of frog; some had transformed and the relationships had lasted a while before she reversed the kiss and turned them back. It had taken her years to realize what she really wanted in a man. Cynthia put on gloves and a face guard before opening the box and lifting the giant frog into the incubator. A very distant cousin of Rana Venenosa, its scarlet markings stood out from its inky black body; its black eyes considered her carefully. The thing must have weighed 20 pounds; it was enormous … and incredibly poisonous. She trembled a bit from the mix of excitement and fear, moving to apply the antibacterial solution to her lips and removing a syringe of the antidote from her purse. It would dart her, she was certain, but Cynthia hoped it would act like Cupid’s arrow on both sides. She didn’t want someone safe, predictable, and boring like the others. God help her, she wanted Dracula.
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 06-05-2013
Sometimes, when the constant snow and happy singing became too much to bear, she would poison an elf or two; a special batch of cookies, a pinch of this and that, a little taste test with a cold glass of milk (served with a warm smile). She wasn’t proud of it, but it kept the darkness in check for the rest of the time. As Mrs Claus, she adored her home, her husband, and the lively hum of the workshop year-round … but she was an Addams after all.
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 22-10-2012
Weston Kendrick had been bitten and stung so many times during his almost 30 years patrollin’ the canyon that his own bite had become poisonous. He didn’t even bother bleeding the wound if something got him, they say – just absorbed it and went right on. As a lawman frequently involved in fisticuffs, this proved mighty handy.
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 15-10-2012
Sarah wore a suit to the lunch, of course; she was all about presentation. Amy sat very quietly across the table, in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. “I just thought we should meet and try to put the past behind us,” Sarah said, twirling her empty martini glass. “It’s all water under the bridge, really – and life is too short for bad blood between us.” “I’m not sure I’d call years of systematic betrayal ‘bad blood’,” Amy replied, her voice even and neutral, “but some lives are definitely shorter than others.” Underneath the table, she tucked the tiny vial and the rubber gloves back into her purse.
Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 19-05-2012
She loved parties – the drinking and dancing and attempted murder! Someone would invariably serve her a glass of punch laced with some horrible thing, but she’d been ingesting poison in trace amounts since she was a child; she tolerated everything. She’d drain her glass, bite the callus on her tongue to make her mouth bleed, then have arrested all who looked her way eagerly with delight. Lucrezia Borgia would wipe her mouth, giggle, and order them decapitated. “Amateurs!” she would yell out to the crowd, laughing.