Here is a flash fiction short story I originally wrote for Halloween 2011. Enjoy, and let be a sign of things to come here on flobito.com.
Meet The Parent
“Do I have to go?” Marc said as he loaded his suitcase into the small blue hatchback.
“Yes you do. Now stop being a baby,” Juliana pecked him on the cheek as she slid into the passenger seat.
Marc and Juliana had just celebrated their four-year anniversary as a couple at the swankiest French restaurant in town. It was there in front of their mutual friends that Marc proposed. A couple lines of being lost without her here and another stanza about getting married there, Juliana accepted and all was well. Juliana immediately called home as soon as dinner was over to make the arrangements that had Marc so out of sorts. He would have to meet Juliana’s mother. That prospect of “meeting the parents” made him more nervous than he was being on bended knee.
Juliana’s mother Pam lived about six hours away in the rolling hills of Summit Valley, but it felt like minutes had passed by the time they got there. Marc, doing his civic duty as the man in the relationship, carried both of the suitcases up to the front door of Pam’s cabin.
“Is there anything I need to know?” He said.
“Nope,” Juliana said. “My mom is a little different but nothing too sinister.”
The door swung open and Marc’s eyes met up with the impish woman on the other side. She came up to his chest but she was no less intimidating. There was a patch of silence, one that Marc was determined to rectify.
“Pamela?” Marc wavered. “I’m Marc, pleased to meet you.” He dropped his suitcase to extend his hand for a handshake.
Instead of shaking it, Pam grabbed his hand between her own and closed her eyes. She made a disturbing set of low rumbling chants as she kneaded both sides of his palm. Marc, already nervous to begin with, started to sweat bullets as he looked over to Juliana for some sort of moral support. Juliana could only offer up a simple shrug, as if to say “That’s Mom, alright.”
After what seemed like an eternity, Pam’s eyes opened wide.
“He’s the one,” Pam said. “Come out back, we have to test it out.”
With that she disappeared into the house. Dumbfounded, Marc decided to let Juliana walk into the house first.
“What was that about?” Marc asked.
“Marcus, I have a bit of a confession to make,” Juliana said while pointing at a spot on the living room floor where Marc could settle down the bags.
“This can’t be good,”
“My mom is going to try and kill you.”
“What?” Marc said, mouth agape.
“Don’t worry, you have nothing to worry about.”
When they got to the back porch, Marc had more questions than answers. But when he saw Pam, dressed in a long black robe with black pointed hat, had one big question superseded them all: Was this old lady a witch, or was he being pranked?
“Sit, sit,” Pam said as she toiled from behind a workbench.
Doing what he was told, Marc sat in a wooden chair in the middle of the back porch, with Juliana standing over him.
“Julie,” Marc said. “Why is your mom dressed like a witch?”
“Because she is one,” Juliana said calmly. “I actually am too, but I don’t care much for the ceremonial garb. It’s too old school.”
“Please tell me you’re joking,” Marc said.
“It’s not a joke,” Pam said as she turned around, with a bow and arrow in hand. She walked over slowly to Marc, taking her time. “She has no respect for tradition.”
“Okay,” Juliana said in almost a whisper. “As you may know, us witches can’t exactly date mortals. It’s rare, but when we come across someone with immortal blood, we have to make sure that they are in fact immortal. So relax, mom is going to shoot you with that arrow through your heart. If you survive, you get her blessing.”
“What?!” Marc tried to get out of his chair but he couldn’t move. He was pinned, somehow. “What if I die?”
“Then it would be our mistake,” Pam said, cocking the bow and arrow at Marc’s sternum. “I would make a witch-trial joke here, but it would be highly inappropriate.”
Pam planted her back foot to brace herself from the eventual recoil. Marc began to breathe heavily.
“Could I say my final words?” Marc said.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Juliana fired back.
Marc sighed and closed his eyes. With that, Pam let go of the bow and the loaded arrow sailed through Marc’s chest. His body went limp as he slumped in the chair. Pam and Juliana took a moment and looked at each other, unsure of what to do with themselves.
Just then, with a big gasp of air Marc came to life. Using both of his hands, he pulled the arrow out of his chest and cast it aside. Lifting up his shirt, he saw the large gash heal, leaving a fine-line scar. Marc was hyperventilating now, as he wiped the sweat from off his brow.
Juliana rubbed his shoulders, “I was thinking our wedding theme should be orange and Tiffany blue, what do you say?”
Happy Halloween, yo!